Foreign Exchanges
by rowena89
Summary: Professor Hermione Granger was expecting a quiet end to the year and her summer, not preparation for a trip to France, competition and meeting with a past acquaintance! Fleur/Hermione fic Rating is for possibilities in future chapters. Characters are not mine!
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note:** Firstly this is the work of an amateur author, apologies in advance for the cringe worthy turn of phrase that is used throughout.

Also I, unfortunately, have no claim whatsoever on those wonderful characters from the world of Harry Potter. They are all due to the brilliance of one woman, J.K. Rowling and as such I look to make absolutely nothing out of this bar a fool of myself :P

Before you begin this is categorised as a Hermione/Fleur fic – if you didn't spot that at the beginning!

Reviews are always welcome for good or ill – I could always use some advice! Ps if there is a Beta reader floating about let me know!

Thanks for taking the time to look at this; hopefully it won't be a waste!

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The still quiet of the early evening was broken by the repetitive crunch of freshly fallen snow underneath Hermione Granger's boots. Walking briskly towards the gates of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she paused momentarily to admire the grounds of the castle in the waning golden sunlight. The blanket of snow had fallen, heavily and thickly, the previous evening; Temporarily halting her good intentions for a healthy outdoor experience at least once a day. It was beautiful and earlier she had almost let another day slip by without fresh air, not wanting to leave her imprint on the glistening cloak of white . . . but she was not a witch in the practice of breaking promises. No, that could never be said of her. Smiling inwardly at the thought Hermione turned once again towards the castle.

Nothing had really changed here since she herself had attended as a student. The whole building had been repaired to look the same as before, not one stone was left out of place. It was a comforting and slightly unnerving thought. The heat and light emanating from the castle entrance grew in strength as she drew closer, encouraging her to quicken her purposeful pace. Her toes were numb and, despite what Ginny might think, her hands did not appreciate the paltry protection offered by her cloak.

Filch, like a man possessed, was furiously brushing snow from the smooth, grey flagstones while Mrs Norris sat: Glowering in the doorway. Hermione avoided looking directly at the feline equivalent of Filch. That cat had always seemed rather human in its expression; Hermione didn't trust it in the least. She bounded past; ignoring Filch's glare at her wet boots that, in all fairness, she had tried to clear of most of the snow; focused on the light spilling from the halls within. Basking in the much-appreciated warmth she decided against heading directly for her rooms. Argus Filch's glares were a weekly if not daily occurrence: thankfully growing less frequent the longer she spent at Hogwarts. _Perhaps it's just those with whom he's not familiar that are lucky enough to attract his attention_. Snorting at the thought she stamped her boots, somewhat spitefully, in an effort to rid herself of the loose snow still clinging to her soles before taking off once more.

Torches lit the main corridor, throwing shadows on the stone guardians: who had been reinstated after the last battle, with a few extra flourishes thanks to Professor Flitwick. The head of Ravenclaw had been more than happy to add to the defences of the castle during its renovation, bustling from one arch to the next muttering incantation after incantation. McGonagall had insisted that the appearance of the defenders remain as close to the original as possible; so there they remained, stony and silent in their watch. Hermione liked them. Others found them eerie but after the final battle she had been delighted to see them repaired to their former glory in view of their sacrifice, feeling or unfeeling as they might be. At least some sacrifices could be fixed.

It was strange to return to a place that had, for so long, been not just a school but a home as well. In her first year of teaching the thought had frequently crossed her mind. A home where she and the boys had laughed, studied and dodged the occasional death threat that came with the territory of being Harry Potters closest friends. Generally people moved on from school and never looked back but this was where her magical life had begun; This is where she felt most useful. Where better to further her knowledge and help others attain their magical best? The corridors seemed less vast and looming than before, then again she was no longer a five-foot nothing 'know it all' running to her next class.

It was a familiar place, and as with all familiar places had lost any kind of intimidating effect upon her return as an adult. The same rooms, well-worn hallways, enthusiastic elves and ageless ghosts, yes Hogwarts was just as she recalled but strange at the same time. Sometimes, when walking in an empty corridor, she swore she could hear Seamus Finnegan shouting about quidditch in a loud Irish brogue or Luna Lovegoods' rambling about Nargles while searching the quiet library for an obscure text. And then the, in some ways less welcome, memories flooded back. The Weasley twins' great display of fireworks had been the most glaring of late. Thankfully it no longer reduced her to tears but still, when that particular image had burst through so clearly and vibrantly as she finished her pudding, her chest had tightened momentarily before relaxing.

Students hurried past, barely casting a glance in her direction, running to last lessons of the day or to the library to fit in much needed cramming. Christmas exams were just round the corner and had most of the student body in a dither. _Was I really that bad?_ she wondered as yet another O.W.L. student came barrelling past her; A stack of books balanced precariously in one hand, the other holding a half-eaten piece of fruit. Not that she could ever criticise students for their preoccupation with exams. Who was the witch that held some of the highest marks ever consistently received by a student throughout their school career? _Still I would like to think I have mellowed a little! Some of my students might disagree; Honestly you can't write a decent essay on werewolves on less than two rolls of parchment!_

"I must get those fifth year papers ready," she muttered aloud, adding it to the mental list of 'must do's before the end of the week' that was growing at an alarming rate.

Gripping a glove determinedly she pulled her hand free before turning her attention to the other. No easy task when walking and dodging distracted students at the same time. The corridor was a health hazard this time of year with students paying less attention than ever before. Bundling the gloves into a spare pocket Hermione spotted one of her first years attempting to levitate a stone. _Why in Merlin's name does Anthony insist on creating his own wand movements? _Any other time and she would stop to help. Not now though, now all that was on her mind was food and something warm to drink. Being out on the grounds was something she tried her very best to fit in everyday. A cruel promised extracted by Ginny Potter the last time she had turned up to Godric's Hollow looking slightly wan and pale. _Last time I show up there without a little make up on!_ A cure for all under nourishment claimed Ginny, fresh air and good food of course. She really had become more and more like Molly; Not that that little aside would be mentioned in front of Ginny . . . ever.

The hall itself was bursting with students diligently filling their stomachs with the delicious food presented before them. Nothing could compare with the studiousness that Ronald had afforded to that pastime; Hermione had yet to observe a worthy contender for his title of 'Largest amount of food consumed in one sitting'. Ignoring the mindless chatter surrounding her Hermione made her way to the head table, passing by her old house table on her way. The staff table was half full tonight; Some professors were obviously still at a lessons or finishing off setting their exam papers. It wasn't unusual for there to be space at the top table come end of term, unless there was an official announcement to be made which required all staff to be present. _Students think they have it hard, like to see them try correcting the guts of 90 essays on Vampire weaknesses without falling into an induced coma!_ Spotting a spare seat next to her favoured teacher Hermione made her way directly to it, dropping gratefully once she had arrived.

"Good evening Professor Granger," greeted McGonagall; not fazed at all by her former pupil's lack of decorum.

"Evening Headmistress," replied Hermione cheerfully as she shook the remnants of snow from her shoulders. Forcing her stiff fingers to co-operate she was finally able to unclasp her cloak before draping it round her chair. Rolling her woollen jumper sleeves back, she rubbed her hands vigorously before turning towards the older witch who was watching proceedings with a decidedly amused look on her face.

"Out for your walk hmm? Can't say that I am surprised. Mrs. Potter is not a witch to be ignored."

"Most definitely; I may now stand before Ginevra Potter, hand on heart, with the clearest of consciences! Though I doubt half an hour constitutes what was prescribed," Hermione mused, ladling some stew for herself.

"Don't tell me the Professor for Defence against the Dark Arts fears for her life when confronted with one Mrs. Potter?" chuckled McGonagall.

Hermione paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth, to raise an eyebrow at her mentor. McGonagall smiled and pulled a favoured teapot towards her before continuing.

"Indeed. Well, any time spent outdoors is worth it especially when it is as clear as today has been; No rain for the first time in a week! Are you ready for the Christmas exams Hermione?" queried McGonagall who, after a year, was still inclined to mother the young professor.

"Yes, ready to go. The Fifth year paper will need a slight adjustment but apart from that . . . I just need to be ready to correct them. How have the discussions with the Centaurs been coming along?"

Hagrid had brought a proposal to the attention of the staff that certain beings living in the Forbidden Forest were interested in sharing their knowledge at a recent meeting. Now, that the Dark Lord was no more; they saw the host at Hogwarts as a safe option to improve relations between magical creatures and the larger magical community. No longer was it seen as a disgrace to share knowledge with those who might cause harm. In fact the example of Firenze's treatment during his tenure worked favourably in bringing about the idea at all! The Centaurs had been at the fore of the movement followed closely by the Mer People. Hagrid, being the most contactable of staff, had logically become a go between.

"Well Hagrid has outlined our ideas on how lessons might take shape. Not to say that the Centaurs agreed with everything necessarily," McGonagall paused to glare at an overexcited first year who had almost up scuttled a jug of pumpkin juice, "but with a few tweaks here and there who's to say? The next astronomy lesson might be shared between Professor Sinistra and a Centaur!"

With a slight incline of her head McGonagall beckoned Hermione closer.

"Speaking of relations between magical beings and Hogwarts I must talk to you about an invitation I have received. Are you free this Friday evening?" she questioned before pouring hot tea in cups for both herself and Hermione.

Hermione thought for a moment before replying. Ron had owled to say he happened to finally have a weekend free if she was around for a chat but that wasn't until he was finished and had a chance to get to Hogsmeade.

"I am meeting Ronald Weasley that evening but could we meet earlier? I had said to my N.E.W.T class that they could use that last lesson as a study session," she replied, handing the milk to her companion.

"Perfect," agreed McGonagall, taking a sip of tea she paused before nodding to herself.

"I will be in my office from four in the afternoon. Pop in when you get the chance."

"Is there anything I should bring with me?" inquired Hermione, holding the warm cup in both hands.

Not that it was unusual for her to go to the Heads office; in fact the opposite was true. Both women could often be found chatting about various issues or discussing different aspects to the curriculum in the hallways or in either of their offices. Hermione had made the transition from student to teacher smoothly and enjoyed the company of McGonagall, a professor who had always inspired her.

"Ah nothing at all dear! Just yourself and your wits," smiled McGonagall reassuringly as she teased out a tartan handkerchief from her sleeve before using it to clean her spectacles.

Noting that McGonagall seemed content to leave the arrangements at that Hermione chatted to her about the possibilities of Defence against the Dark Arts lessons being enhanced with the participation of the Centaurs.

The Great Hall emptied slowly. Sipping her now lukewarm, second cup of tea, Hermione observed the crowds of students talking back and forth while they moved on to their respective dormitories. Although much had stayed the same there were some definite differences. Houses mixed more readily than before, particularly Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff though Slytherin were slowly adapting to this new world. _Draco Malfoy has some worthy successors, maybe not as many as what might have come before._ It was hard to imagine what these first years made of Hogwarts since it had only been six years since the end of the Second Great War. There were children here who had been completely unaware of what had been a fact of life for Hermione. Still it did no good to dwell in the past and Hogwarts had emerged from that final battle stronger than ever.

Hermione put her cup to one side on a used dish; Rising slowly she swept the table clean of crumbs, her steady palm depositing them in the used crockery. Piling her dishes in an orderly manner was one curious habit Hermione retained from her muggle childhood, even when she had been teased by her housemates. Harry, who was also inclined to tidy up after himself at the table, displayed these 'Muggle quirks' as his wife liked to call them. Memories of childhood tasks drew out 'odd' behaviours at school which most of her students found very entertaining: especially those who came from wizarding families. Hanging her cloak up by hand, ordering her desk and even her one time use of a ballpoint pen instead of quill were the basis for some very creative impressions she had the pleasure of being the subject of. She had once argued that a refill pad and pen were still perfectly viable tools to have in her bag with a group of astounded and slightly bewildered second years. The memories of that particular class came back quite easily since it had ended up with most of group vying for a try at the muggle quill and ink!

Leaving the hall she strolled to her rooms, which were thankfully, not too far away. It had always been a great mystery to her where exactly the staff resided in the castle: though some had accommodation off of the castle grounds. _Not once was it mentioned in any of the chapters of 'Hogwarts a History'! _Hermione had hated finding faults with that illustrious tomb of work but she couldn't ignore them either. Needless to say that when she had been recruited to teach at Hogwarts her apartments were high on the list of inquiries she was excited to explore. The staff at Hogwarts enjoyed a comfortable living, by anyone's standards: being afforded a common room, small bathroom and bedroom each. Those Heads of Houses had extra pleasures but ones that Hermione could live without: a fireplace in her bedroom for instance or an adjoining office. She was perfectly content with her quarters that were quite similar to what she had experienced as a student, though more spacious considering the lack of other bodies. _At least Parvati isn't there to leave clothes strewn about the floor._

Without hesitating she navigated the moving staircases to her final destination, fighting off the urge to sleep. An early riser she had never been very good at studying late into the night, preferring to wake early and do her work then. The halls were empty and knowing that she had no duties to perform that night made her arrival at her door all the sweeter. _If I have to send one more prefect patrol for extra rounds because of 'distractions' I might just lose my mind._ Nightly rounds were not one of the perks of being a professor; in fact if it could be avoided at all Hermione would have found a way. She was not one to shirk her duties but it was the worst way to spend any amount of time; A suitable detention activity, if only those students on detention were ones that could be let loose without supervision.

"Copernicus," mumbled Hermione, stifling a yawn as a landscape of the Scottish Highlands swung aside, gracefully allowing her entry.

The fire was already lit and bathed the sitting room in a warm glow. Crookshanks peered at her sleepily before giving up the fight and settling back into his basket that was enviously placed beside the fire. Throwing her cloak and gloves on a nearby hanger Hermione sat in an inviting wing-backed armchair to pull off her boots. Normally jeans and boots were more than comfortable when taking a quick walk but with the weather worsening she would have to start using a few well-placed charms to keep her warm. Not to say that this wouldn't have been possible before but as was with her 'odd habits' from her muggle childhood she still believed in silly things like immune systems and their strength. Her mother would only ever give a young Hermione a hat and gloves if the weather truly warranted it and god forbid that she should wear a coat inside because she 'wouldn't get the benefit from it' when she did eventually make it past the front door.

Sighing audibly at the sensation of tingling feet she lay back in the chair and stared at the fire. She couldn't wait for this week to be finished and finally have the exams begin. Once they were over it would be back home for a Christmas feast and extended family arriving unannounced not to mention a visit to the Burrow and probably to Godric's Hollow as well. Hermione groaned remembering the Christmas presents that lay bare at the bottom of her armoire. She really didn't mind shopping; all her major presents had been bought since November. It was the wrapping she hated, trying to get everything sorted into bags for the various people she would be seeing: Still that could wait.

Picking up her latest diversion, a biography of Rowena Ravenclaw: recently published with additional information provided by the Grey Lady, Hermione settled in for an uneventful evening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

First and foremost thank you all for your lovely reviews and for following this story! Hopefully it will not disappoint!

I'm aware that this chapter is quickly following the first, I don't think this is a pace I can maintain to be honest. The story is just flowing - like most do I'm sure, in the beginning. I wouldn't count this as being how fast I write! Sorry :)

Ps: do let me know if you have any suggestions or comments regarding the story!

And so on with chapter number two! Again I am not making any money, unfortunately. This is a non-profit distraction that helps considerably with my mental stability ;) Enjoy!

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Predictably the week flew by and Christmas exams were now only a weekend away; Not that Hermione was convinced her students knew that looking at her final class of the day. Agitated eyes flicked from her face, to the book, to the window_. Trying to impart any advice close to the end of a class is impossible._ Her eyes fluttered shut momentarily, tiredness gnawed at her own ability to stay half alert. She had to move before she slumped even further onto the inviting desk before her. Sighing aloud she heaved herself from behind the desk, trying to grab at whatever attention her students could muster.

"Do not attempt to skip over anything we have covered this term. I have weighted the questions so that all areas are covered accordingly."

"Professor?"

Interrupted mid-rant Hermione bit her lower lip. Pursing them she faced Neville Longbottoms' doppelganger, a carbon copy if ever there was, in the front row to her left.

"Yes David?"

"Will we have to do any practical demonstrations like?" inquired the boy, looking rather pasty at the thought.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose; it had been a very long day.

"For the fourth time I do not include practical demonstrations of any nature until the second term. I prefer to have the theory thoroughly covered before we attempt any major spell work. The second term will be largely, if not completely, comprised of practical work based on theory completed during the first . . . now are there any other questions?"

Hermione took the time regard the class carefully. Hopefully all the questions had been thought of, no one could say that she hadn't given them ample opportunity to ask.

"Fantastic!" she cried, clapping her hands together, wary of the querying look that had started to form on David's face.

"I will be available on Saturday, as always, from eleven to one in the afternoon. Should you have any questions please come see me, otherwise good luck with your studies and I shall see you next week for the exams."

Amid the scraping of chairs and the slamming of textbooks she returned her quills to their desk drawer. The class bustled from the room noisily and in no time at all it was returned to its previous state of tranquillity. Hermione gathered up the textbooks she had been revising with the group and placed them neatly on the top shelf of her cupboard before sealing it with a quick word_. If I learned anything about being prepared at school it was that no professor should ever leave a store unlocked, mercifully Snape hadn't been that paranoid._

Fridays really is the longest day of the week! Her first years had decided they were about to face the gallows and she had had to comfort at least four O.W.L. students who had either lost notes or books or required a kind ear upon which they could rely for good advice. Unfortunately for her last batch of students, her patience had been sorely tried and pretty much exhausted. _I love questions but when the same one is repeated constantly in close proximity to the last inquiry I really have to question whether Nargles are addling their brains! _Sighing at the thought she rested her palms on her old wooden desk; a favourite that she had been able to save from the renovations at her local, childhood library. Regarding the empty chairs Hermione hung her head tiredly, glad that the day was over. Not that she didn't enjoy teaching but it was, at times, one of the most frustrating things she had ever had to engage with and that included a teenage Ronald Weasley!

Shouldering her satchel she tossed one last look behind her before rushing out the door to her quarters. _Ten past three? I had better get a move on._ Threading her way past the groups of students that thronged the main corridors Hermione managed to make it to her door in ten minutes. Changing out of her teaching garb to more comfortable clothes was completed with practiced ease leaving her with a little time to ponder the upcoming meeting and its purpose.

Even though Hermione had basically immersed herself in a magical lifestyle she just couldn't part with her muggle clothing preferences. Full robes were cumbersome and quite unsuitable when the weather did, on the rare occasion, decide to improve. The eventual solution to her conundrum had come about completely by accident.

She had been mulling over whether to have a robe at all when she had attended her cousin's graduation from Cambridge. Staring vacantly at the mass of graduating students before her Hermione had, what her father called, a 'light-bulb idea'. Academic robe suppliers were numerous and because all she had wanted were basic formal black gowns she had got them quite cheap. Thrown over her muggle clothes she felt rather akin to Professor Snape when sweeping down the hallways on her way to class. Not that her efforts created anything close to the fear he had inspire. No, she had never managed to cultivate that aura, looking as harried as she normally did. Despite drawing some second glances she persisted with her choice: they were easy to put on, came with both short and long sleeved options and that was before she even mentioned their durability. Really Hermione was delighted with herself!

Patting herself down she opened her handbag for one final inspection.

_Money? Check. Wand? Check. Ron's 'Classic Chess Strategems' magazine? Check._

Funnily enough when Ron had taken the time to learn muggle chess he had become quite the fan. 'Boring but strategically interesting' is what he had suggested as the basis for his growing obsession. Hermione had only been too happy to try and make it more of a muggle experience for Ron, bringing him to muggle shops to find literature to sate his appetite. Sadly his interest was more in the material than the experience and soon it became clear that she was his postmistress more than his tour guide of muggle life. She honestly couldn't say when she had begun to worry less about Rons' knowledge of the muggle world; it had waned dramatically somewhere between their final year at Hogwarts together and the end of their relationship.

Theirs was a tumultuous affair. Not that there was ever any kind of abuse or the like; still words could cut as deep. On occasion their arguments went far beyond any of those that had erupted during their time at Hogwarts. More often than not Hermione found herself abandoned, upset and tearful, in their shared apartment: much like the period during the Horcrux hunt with Harry. At least then Harry had been there to distract her. _He and I were just not suited, funny how extreme circumstances can blind you to what is at the end of your nose. _After a year and a half they both had agreed, quite amicably, that their relationship was not working. Barely a week later Hermione had got her own one bedroom flat, not far from Diagon Alley and less than half a year later was starting at Hogwarts. Strange how the end of her relationship and time at the ministry had coincided but she couldn't complain. Happy with her current single status and position she really considered herself quite fortunate. Not that Molly Weasley had given up on her, every family gathering found Hermione smiling graciously as Molly questioned her about any recent 'suitors' on the scene.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Hermione rubbed Crookshanks and made her way out the door letting the portrait swing shut behind her.

_I wonder if this has anything to do with the Centaurs? I do have two years experience in Magical Creature Law._ For the past few days McGonagall had been busy sorting out timetables with the various professors and making arrangements for the Christmas break. Hermione hadn't had a spare moment either with all the drama of pre-exam nerves. The most either witch had seen of each other were rushed greetings in passing at the dinner or breakfast table with the odd meeting in the corridor on the way to another class or appointment.

Hermione had spent her first years out of Hogwarts working for the ministry, specifically with the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Sadly her reforms hadn't been making much headway. Frustrated she had left just shy of two years: annoyed at the lack of progress and constant emphasis on control and regulation rather than reform. It had been quite the disappointment to realise that Wizarding politic and legislature was as slow, if not slower, than muggle procedures. Still it was an experience she was glad to have had.

McGonagall had retained Dumbledore's original office and method of access, a nod to her predecessor no doubt. Years of visits to this very office always came back to her when she had the opportunity to call; most were not that bad and usually were of the happier sort.

"Walnut Whip," murmured Hermione to the Gargoyle, who after many years as the Head's guardian wasn't looking the best.

Ascending the staircase to McGonagall's office Hermione ran through her checklist of those she had yet to buy presents for. Surprisingly adult's outnumbered children, still the way Harry and Ginny were going it wasn't going to be long before there was a full quidditch team residing at Godric's Hollow.

Knocking firmly on the door, Hermione waited for the muffled 'Come in' before entering.

McGonagall sat at her desk dwarfed by surrounding stacks of papers and books. Former Heads portraits lined the wall above her head as they had done in Dumbledore's day, now with the additional two of course. It had taken a while to get used to Snape peering down his nose at her from a picture frame but Hermione paid little heed to him nowadays. In fact his stare could be quite comforting at times, knowing what she did of his exploits and efforts during the war.

"Well I must say I have never had so many requests for students to stay over the holidays?! Really quite remarkable," muttered Minerva distractedly, pushing rolls of parchment into an orderly pile.

"All of those?" asked Hermione curiously, gesturing at the pile of letters next to the headmistress.

"Believe it or not, a sizeable amount regarding muggle children too. I don't mind it at all; the castle can be quiet without the students bustling about. Never enjoyed Hogwarts myself during the holidays."

Holding her glasses out in front of her McGonagall rubbed them vigorously in the late afternoon, sun smiling all the while. Hermione waited patiently, rather than interjecting, knowing that this was the best, and quickest, way to find out what she had been called upon for.

"Now," began McGonagall, turning her full attention to the young professor before her. "Hermione, I am sure you are curious as to what this is all about?"

Nodding politely Hermione settled herself into the chair across from the Headmistress. The older witch seemed quite intent on her words, choosing them carefully as it were.

"Do you recall your fourth year here? The Triwizard Tournament and the events that surrounded it?"

Remember it? How could she forget? Harry and the dragon; Cedric's murder and Ron's obstinacy; Skeeter and her venomous lies, not to mention a certain Bulgarian paramour of hers . . . it had been a horrendous and eventful year.

"I do Headmistress, the good and the bad," replied Hermione quietly.

"Ah yes. Believe me I am not discounting what happened that year. Oh no, I am rather in two minds about what I am about to put forward . . ."

Here McGonagall stopped and breathed deeply, preparing her arguments before speaking them aloud; knowing that should she approach this in the wrong manner Hermione would not countenance her proposal.

"We cannot argue with the fact that the tournament that year was an unmitigated disaster. Students injured, murder and Harry's ordeal of course. I cannot ignore, however, the good that came of it too. The co-operation of the French resistance, the aid given by the Bulgarians to the Order of the Phoenix . . . without the Triwizard tournament I doubt we would received half of the support we did."

"I agree Headmistress, whole heartedly, but are you saying that another staging of the tournament has been suggested?"

"Suggested Ms Granger? I believe we are well past that! A formal invitation for the participation of Hogwarts has been received with Beauxbaton's offering its grounds as the host site!"

McGonagall clasped her hands tightly, nodding at Hermione's conflicted expression. The young woman looked both horrified and intrigued by the notion. She herself had much the same reaction, not surprising considering they both knew the depths of the trials that Harry had faced that year.

Picking up a rather ornate envelope, seal broken, in one hand the Headmistress gestured bemusedly with the other.

"I was as shocked as you when I received it, nothing had been mentioned before now that even alluded to this. I, myself, encountered Madam Maxime in Diagon Alley not a year ago without a whisper, on her part, of any intention for the competition's resurrection!"

Gold lettering caught the light and illuminated the text on the front of the envelope. 'A cordial Invitation to have the honour of your participation in THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT' glittered in front of her eyes. Hermione's gaze slid from the envelope to consider her former professor carefully. Minerva McGonagall was not a woman who leaped to hasty conclusions. Really she had never seen her so animated before . . .barring that incident with Peeves and the school kitchens in her first year as a professor.

"You are considering accepting the invitation?"

"Durmstrang has already made it known that they intend to compete. For Hogwarts not to be present would hardly be a crushing blow but our reputation as an internationally recognised institute would suffer a little. I have never been a proponent of such events but I now must speak for a school."

Hermione was still a little confused by the situation in which she found herself. Increasingly bemused by the whole concept she rubbed her forehead tiredly, processing her former professors words slowly. _I am not in the right mood to consider this idea properly at all. I could really use a cup of tea or better yet a butterbeer! _Too exhausted to untangle the many possibilities regarding the reasons for the revival of the tournament Hermione got straight to the point.

"Headmistress I am certain you will come to the right decision but may I ask why you have brought this to my attention?"

Sighing McGonagall left the invitation to one side and leaned forward in her chair. Hermione couldn't help but focus completely on the Headmistress who, with her spectacles slipping down her nose and fingers interlinked, reminded Hermione forcibly of Dumbledore.

"Hermione, if I were to consider this at all I would wish for a trusted member of staff with suitable experience and training to not only oversee the preparation of our students but also to accompany me to the event itself. If you were willing, I feel that you are most suited to the job."

Hermione was dumbstruck. Who did McGonagall think she was? Some wand toting auror who blasted spells left, right and centre? Hermione Granger knew her area inside and out but in recent years had little reason to practice it outside of the classroom. No, better leave the death eater chasing to qualified aurors like Harry and Ron! Vague recollections of the accompanying professors during the tournament of her Fourth year brought unbidden images of a severely-dressed, sinister Baltic man in Durmstrang colours and a pompous French homme who never deigned to speak 'Eenglish' even to the professors at Hogwarts!

"Not . . . not that I am ungrateful for the opportunity but are you sure I am the person you are looking for?" stuttered Hermione, repositioning herself in the now increasingly uncomfortable chair.

McGonagall laughed and leaned back, bringing her hand to her mouth to smother her chuckles. Here sat one of the most able witches she had ever had the pleasure to teach, let alone work alongside, doubting her abilities in, what Minerva considered, an area of expertise for her. The girl had run riot with Potter all over Europe for goodness' sake!

"Ms. Granger, I understand Mr. Potter was the leader of your group and Mr. Weasley quite happy to follow but do not for a second underestimate your own contribution."

Standing from her chair McGonagall plucked a rather thick looking tome from a nearby shelf. Hermione groaned quietly, catching a glimpse of her own face along with Harry and Rons grinning at her from one of the many pictures plastered on its cover.

McGonagall smiled wryly at her former pupils' discomfort before opening the book briskly. Drawing her index finger down the list of chapters she quickly found the required segment: flicking expertly to the relevant page McGonagall began to speak as if back in the classroom before a herd of eager students.

"Considered one of the most comprehensive accounts of the war and the events leading up to it Grundle's 'Exploration and Discussion of the 2nd Great War: Its participants and their dealings' has more than just one chapter on your good self. Hmmm where is it . . . ah ha, here we go, page 243 and I quote: 'Ms Hermione Grange is, in my humble estimation, one of the most under appreciated combatants of the 2nd Great War. Recognised for her academic brilliance Hermione Grangers competency in spell work is often only remarked upon by those who observed her as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now three years into my research, several accounts of Ms. Grangers' duelling ability and logical skill in the face of adversity have come to the fore. Particularly with regard to the wide range and depth of casting she brought to the final battle where . . ."

"Stop! Stop! I understand where you are going with this Headmistress, I do but surely a more senior member of staff would be a more appropriate choice to accompany you or to oversee our students training?" exclaimed Hermione, frantically grasping at whatever excuses she could.

McGonagall thankfully closed the book before her and moved it to one side. Hermione's gaze flitted from the hopeful face before her to the twinkling eyes of her former Headmaster and lastly to the assessing eyes of one of Hogwarts most acclaimed potions masters.

"Ms. Granger I am not for one moment suggesting that you be solely responsible, merely that you would oversee their training and be, for the most part, their mentor. Of course the staff of Hogwarts will be on hand to aide you, Professor Flitwick would be one of the most obvious choices with his previous duelling experience. As for the time spent at Beauxbatons there will be more than just you and I attending! I cannot in good conscience bring students to a foreign school without suitable supervision. While we are there I understand the students are to attend classes with the teachers of that school but I would ask that you, being one of our most successful graduates, would take our students for extra sessions in various areas of study so as to maintain our standards. No other student, in my memory at least, took as many N.E.W.T. level examinations and succeeded in them no less!"

Suddenly the office seemed quite small and crowded though it held but two persons. Sighing Hermione rubbed her face quite thoroughly before dropping her hands to her lap. _Logical skill in the face of adversity my backside, why can't I come up with a reasonable excuse!_ Out of time and reasoned arguments Hermione succumbed to her mentors' wishes.

"I suppose if the other members of staff are happy for Hogwarts to participate and I am guaranteed to receive their help in the training of our prospective champions I would be honoured to help the school in whatever capacity you need me."

McGonagall's smile was surely one of the largest she had ever observed on the woman's face as she walked around the table to crush Hermione in a very Molly Weasley-esque hug. Hermione hardly heard any of the following rushed conversation as she was led, quite skilfully, to the office door. In no time at all she found herself bidding McGonagall a good evening before the door was shut behind her.

"And there go my hopes for a non-eventful third year!" she grumbled before plodding down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors' Note: **Hello again! Lots of you have been leaving reviews so I want to reply to those :)

_Leti2a, sgtranglin, wkgreen, peacelovehopefaithbooks, wkgreen, ibbly5:_ Thanks for the encouragement and kind words!

_SMFirefly_: Thanks for your review and yes, in later chapters, I was considering having Fleur take over. Haven't really decided how that's going to work - half from Hermione and half from Fleur or completely Fleur. Glad to see you notice the slow build :) I prefer to establish the characters before having them interact - yes the basic idea of their personality is there from what most people have read (i.e. books) but where stories continue on into the future I think the development of that character is important. Thanks again for taking the time to review!

_HikariFate: _Hi! thanks for reviewing! When I described that boy as being Nevilles' doppleganger I meant it as a descriptive comparision. He just reminds Hermione of Neville :) The way he behaves and looks is similar. I read it a second time and saw how you might have thought he was Neville's son! Sorry for the confusion :)

_Monkgirl: _I am quite surprised by myself - procrastination is what I am best known for in my circle of friends. Hopefully I won't hit a wall too early on in the story :)

_ThatCrazyNothing: _High praise - fingers crossed I don't let you down :) Prefer the slower paced fics myself because the characters always seem more real? Thanks for reviewing!

Now that's done - I own nothing and if I did I would never sue innocent people using my characters for non-profit ventures ;)

* * *

Puffing quite heavily Hermione pushed the door to the Three Broomsticks open, closing it hurriedly behind her to prevent as much of the outside elements from entering as possible. Scanning the room she picked out Ron from afar, his hair standing out from the crowd as always. Catching his glance at the door she waved quickly before cleaning her boots hastily on the mat at her feet. Hermione scurried over to the table he had managed to grab and sat down before she could be bowled over by passers-by in the crowded tavern.

"Hi Ron!"

"Blimey Hermione, where's the fire? You came through that door like there was someone after you!"

Ron grinned at the flustered witch sitting opposite him; looking quite harried as she struggled with her various bags and coats. Hermione, aware that she was the source of his amusement, tried to rein in her curls which had finally calmed somewhat since school.

In the years following their graduation and failed liaison they both had come to a more mature and understanding friendship. Thankfully, and to Harry's great relief, fights and arguments were few and far between when compared to the previous years they had spent yelling at each other! Ron now took great delight in teasing his friend while Hermione had learned not to take his jokes too seriously.

"Apologies Ronald, forgive me for wanting to get to this meeting on time! Not everyone has legs that go on for ever!"

Emphasising her point by giving the foreign limb beside her chair a deft kick. Ron's legs had not stopped lengthening until he was twenty-three making them some of the longest she had ever encountered. Sitting on the rickety chair opposite, they reached her side of the table quite easily.

"Can't blame me for that! Blessed from above to have these bad boys: makes chasing the suspects way easier," he countered, slapping said limbs heartily. "Have you got my magazine?"

_Typical, only satisfied when he gets what he wants._

"Now, now, I believe Molly and Luna have instilled in their beloved son and husband a sense of courtesy. Let's try that again shall we?" replied Hermione in her best educators voice, to annoy Ron as much as possible.

After their brief entanglement Ron had reconnected with Luna Lovegood, who was a frequent visitor to the Burrow. She and Ginny had always been on good terms, more so than the rest of the group. Gradually Ron and Luna began seeing one another until a year later Hermione was attending the wedding! Luna was a perfect match for Ron; calm, even and well able to deal with his messing she was more his partner than Hermione had ever been. Since Ron had gotten married there had been a distinct maturing of the young man, much to the shock of his long suffering mother!

Groaning exaggeratedly, Ron straightened himself in his seat before looking Hermione in the eye.

"Hermione, would you happen to have that magazine I asked you for?" Ron inquired, managing to look suitably contrite.

Smiling at his efforts Hermione raised an eyebrow at her friend. Sighing Ron thought for a minute before continuing.

"… that you went to such trouble to get . . . please?"

Laughing openly at his pleading expression she leaned down and pulled the magazine from the depths of her handbag.

"Awh brilliant! You're the best Mione!" cried Ron, flicking through the pages animatedly.

"Yes, yes. I'm brilliant, fantastic ex cetera ex cetera," replied Hermione, smirking at the boyish delight on Ron's face.

Crossing her arms she waited as he poured over the magazine. _This might take a while, better get myself a drink. _Nodding at Madame Rosemerta she held up two fingers, mouthing Butterbeer as clearly as she could. Amazingly the woman smiled and nodded. _Must be from years of working in noisy pubs._ Speaking of, it was almost impossible to get a clear view of the bar. The Christmas holidays really did send everyone mad trying to get those last few presents. Witches, Wizards and a myriad of others crowded the tavern with their bags chatting amongst themselves or pushing on through to the door to get their errands finished. _Honestly a little organisation goes a long way. _Finding the view increasingly monotonous Hermione turned her attention to the red mop that was almost lying on the magazine beneath it.

"Right that's it!" cried Hermione, clapping her hands together, "Ronald, pay attention to me now, you can enjoy that at home!" She admonished, organising her cloak and gloves.

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on!"

Ron made a show of slowly closing the magazine and laying it on the table. Crossing his arms he leaned back in his chair. Years of training had really bulked Ron up, to a point where he could be described as a mixture of Bill and Charlie – not too tall and not too stocky. Still quite clumsy he couldn't match Harry for athleticism but did have the advantage when it came to brute strength.

Chasing death eaters had not been Ron's first choice for his future career but when his Chudley Channons trial hadn't been all he had hoped for he decided to follow Harry into auror training. After the war he, along with Harry, had not returned to Hogwarts, much to Hermione's dismay. Her belief in education was unshakeable. Not that she hadn't given it her best shot at trying to persuade them to join her. . . _there was no point in going on about it once their minds had been made up._ _I was soo nervous to go back without them!_ Still it had given her the chance to experience Hogwarts on a completely different level, somewhat independently. Well if you could call having much the same routine while occasionally branching out to befriend more people from other houses independent. _I tried my best but I was the Hermione Granger. Hard to break with that image and character after certain 'reputable' newspapers have bandied almost 6 years of rubbish and scandal about._

"So what has been going on in the life of Professor Hermione Granger?" queried Ron, peering at the slight woman.

Ron had always thought Hermione would make a great teacher. Her enthusiasm for magic hadn't dissipated over the years, much like his love of chess or Harry's for quidditch. With her hair pulled back elegantly and hands folded in her lap she reminded him of McGonagall. Not in a severe way but more in a mature and wise sense. _Not that she's ever been unwise, naïve maybe but never an idiot. Still can't understand how we ever got landed together as friends in first year . . .or in a relationship!_

Hermione, grinning at his joking tone, leaned forward just as Madame Rosemerta deposited two bottles of butterbeer beside them before disappearing into the robed crowds.

"Actually I have some rather exciting news."

Ron hated when Hermione got that secretive look, nothing good ever came of it. That time when she had known Krum was interested in her as a date, when she had decided to brew Polyjuice potion, her inspiration regarding what was terrorising the halls of Hogwarts in their second year . . . not to mention the whole time turner mess. Every time that look had come upon her face he either had heard or had to deal with something unpleasant.

"Wait! Wait! I need to be prepared," exclaimed Ron, making a show of gripping the arms of his chair.

"Honestly Ronald what are you blathering on about?"

"I know what happens when I see that look on your face . . . something bad, dangerous or just plain head wrecking."

Ron exaggeratedly checked his position as if about to undergo some painful medical procedure before nodding resignedly.

"Right. Let's have it then."

Hermione, well used to Ron's friendly ribbing, shook her head at his childish behaviour. Where it had been a bone of contention between the two at school she now found it endearing, in an irritating sort of fashion. Content to watch the reaction this news would garner she indulged his flair for the dramatic.

"Just between ourselves I can let you in on a little news! Apparently there have been moves to have the Triwizard Competition reinstated by Beauxbaton, who wish to host it next year," whispered Hermione conspiratorially.

Holding up her hand to forestall any response, she took a sip of butterbeer before continuing.

"And guess who has just been asked to mentor the champions should the plan go ahead!" Hermione squealed.

The shock on Rons' face was amusing at first but gradually Hermione began to worry about the lack of reaction when two or more minutes had passed. Just short of reaching for her wand to check if Ron had been immobilised magically, he snapped out of it.

"WHAT! They want to reinstate a competition that nearly killed Harry and was the end of Cedric Diggory! ARE THEY MAD!" Ron yelled in a hushed tone across the table.

His face was now slowly growing steadily more flushed, as it did when Ron was incapable of expressing just how angry he was. Well, that was Hermione's theory at least.

"Ronald! Keep your voice down!"

"For Merlins sake Hermione! No one heard, it's packed here today anyway!" Ron argued, his sweeping arm indicating the lack of interest harboured by the Three Broomsticks crowd.

Glancing round to see if there had been any reaction to Ron's little outburst Hermione realised he was quite right. As the Three Broomsticks was jammed with Christmas shoppers and the regular crew who haunted its bar all year, people could hardly hear themselves think never mind listen in on a conversation in the middle of the tumult. Turning back to face Ron Hermione was surprised by the look on his face.

"Don't tell me you agreed!" said Ron, pointing animatedly at Hermione.

"And what if I did Ronald? Hmm? Am I prohibited from offering my services?" she countered, crossing her arms, looking decidedly unimpressed with his response.

Hermione understood where Ron was coming from, it had been her initial reaction as well, but he hadn't even given her the opportunity to explain herself! _Does he actually think I would agree to this if I wasn't completely happy with the revised tournament?_ Come to think of it McGonagall had not actually mentioned anything about a revised tournament . . . _I must ask her about that later._

"When you and I watched Harry in that _crazy_ competition we both agreed we were lucky not to have been allowed enter! Remember?" Recognising Hermione's expression as one of disbelief he continued, "I know it took me a little longer but still! Do the words _this explosion of students for the benefit of the reputation of educational institutions is absolutely unforgivable_ not ring any bells?"

"Exploitation."

"What?"

"Exploitation Ronald, not explosion."

"Right, right . . . whatever! Just think Hermione! Remember that first task, not only were we scared out of our wits for Harry, but you thought the use of dragons was _cruel and unnecessary_ and then the second task . . ."

Squeezing her lips between her teeth Hermione calmly watched Ron gesticulate wildly while recounting the events of their fourth year. _You would swear I wasn't there the way he's going on._ Calloused hands pointed, alternated from being fisted to outstretched and scratched at his hair before finally being folded along with Ron's arms across his chest.

"Are you quite finished?"

"Yes, please explain what is going on? Or do I have to get Luna to test you for some side effect caused by rare magical creatures?"

Rolling her eyes at his behaviour Hermione took a moment to think of the best way to phrase her answer. Inching her chair closer to their table she leaned forward, maintaining eye contact for the duration of her reply.

"Ron I would never agree to this if I thought that the students were going to face what Harry went through," satisfied he was aware of her sincerity she sat back arms open in front of her.

"Look I don't have the full details, I'm not even sure if it will go ahead. I have just come from McGonagall's office where she herself read the invitation. Now, in all seriousness Ronald, you don't think that she would have agreed to this without discussing it with the staff first? Guarantee you that it will not get a majority vote at the Christmas staff meeting," Hermione paused here to catch her breath.

You could always gauge how Ron was feeling by looking at his face. He tended to wear his heart on his sleeve and it was no different now than when he was a teenager. After years of practice she could almost be considered an expert. Hermione picked out the fading redness as calm descending, tight lips as not agreeing completely with what was going on and the casual rub through of his hair as confusion regarding her position in the matter.

"Look Mione, you know I trust you completely. Hell we both do! Harry and me! But you have to admit the last tournament was a disaster."

Sighing heavily Hermione smiled at the blunt statement. _No, I am currently suffering from selective amnesia regarding that horrific year in which many were injured and others died._

"Of course Ronald but don't forget it did do great things for us as well. Take Krum for example and the Bulgarians . . . weren't they useful during the war?"

"Yeah, yeah but don't forget the other things as well Hermione. The mental tasks, crazy foreign professors, not to mention Fleur!"

"Oh come off it you loved those French girls! Veela or not!" Hermione replied, arms crossed comfortably, watching Ron shuffle with embarrassment in his seat.

Shrugging at her point Ron refused to answer, though his avoidance spoke volumes.

"And you can't hold anything against Fleur, it was Bill who broke that whole thing off," finished Hermione, determined not to let Ron away with blaming the visiting students.

"Yeah but I'm still not convinced it was because he wanted to. Look you're right. I trust you to do what you think is best and there were some good things from it. Just . . . just be careful okay? S'all I'm saying."

"Scouts honour," grinned Hermione, making the traditional salute with her hand.

"Alright Ms Muggles. Just don't jump in. In fairness they couldn't ask for a better mentor in my opinion," Ron smiled before clapping his hands and rubbing them together vigorously.

"Right well let's talk about something else! Like what you got me for Christmas!"

Groaning at his child-like expression Hermione began the yearly dodge contest when it came to Rons' determination to find out what he was going to get.

* * *

_This cannot be happening._ Staring round her in disbelief Hermione managed to stop herself from gaping. Barely. They had agreed, they had actually agreed to this competition.

After leaving Ron, following an hour or so of chat, Hermione had made her way to the castle to turn in for the night. She had been quite happy then to expect that the staff would reject any plans for attendance at the Triwizard tournament. Apparently she didn't know her fellow professors as well as she had thought. Though not a unanimous decision it had been predominantly favoured.

_The mention of her name dragged Hermione's mind from her daydreaming to the present and to the Headmistress. So far all that had been covered was the information Hermione had been filled in on when she had met with McGonagall last Friday._

"_As per every tournament that was ever held we are, technically, not supposed to aide our students in any way shape or form. But, as we all are aware, very rarely if ever have these statutes been adhered to!"_

_McGonagall adjusted her robes while the staff muttered and nodded in agreement with her statement._

"_Therefore I propose that we appoint a mentor who will, with the help of all the staff, prepare the students we believe to be fit representatives of Hogwarts."_

"_A splendid idea Minerva, splendid! I too have seen enough tournaments to know that Durmstrang at least prepare their champions in duelling techniques!" stated Professor Flitwick, tapping the table emphatically with his hand._

"_Quite right Filius, quite right. I have taken it upon myself to approach a member of staff already to see if they were willing to undertake with such a task. Luckily she agreed, with the proviso that the remaining staff and possibly another mentor would lend her support during this time."_

_Turning to Hermione who was halfway down the table McGonagall inclined her head._

"_I propose that Ms Hermione Granger be that mentor."_

_Hermione gulped. Suddenly the focus of all those in attendance was firmly fixed on her and she didn't like it one bit. Struggling to maintain her confident pose and meet everyone's gaze, she was reminded of first year and the looks that had been thrown her way after the incident with the troll._

"_I second that decision, wholeheartedly," Professor Flitwick smiled at the young woman sat on the opposite side of the table. "A more able student I have never taught. Ms Granger meets all the requirements I would expect of a Hogwarts mentor and more."_

_Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at his outspoken support. At least there was one other member of staff enthusiastic about her candidacy. Hermione had always been wary of preferential treatment or rather the appearance of having preferential treatment. Like Harry she didn't want people thinking that everything was handed to her. Next to McGonagall, Flitwick was probably the member of staff who knew her best._

"_Professor Flitwick thank you for your vote of confidence but before any decision is made I would like to make it clear that I consider this a huge responsibility and, if chosen, would really welcome any and all support. Particularly with regard to duelling in your case, "Hermione replied, making a concerted effort to not look like she expected to receive this job without challenge._

_Much to her surprise, and part dismay, the rest of the staff followed Flitwick in their votes citing her experience, manner with students and knowledge as major advantages. One or two did make reference to her youth though McGonagall quickly quashed them._

"_Ms Grangers' age has never impinged on her ability to impart information or deal with difficult situations. I might ask you all to remember her calm logic in the face of danger and sometimes death, who among us is so qualified?"_

_McGonagall paused for effect, waiting for any further queries regarding her decision. When none were brought forward she clasped her hands and continued._

"_In any case, as I stated before, she shall not be alone in this endeavour. I personally will take an active role in the supervision of any lessons and would expect the staff to voluntarily make themselves available should they think they have anything of worth to share."_

And that was how Hermione Granger found herself being surrounded on all sides by shaking hands and words of congratulations before she was left to walk back to her quarters in some consternation at the situation she had been landed in.


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: **Slow moving I know but I don't like leaving gaps! Sorry! For those of you awaiting the appearance of Ms Delacourt (**Tuxjim**) she is in the wings waiting to sweep in grandly! Can't be too hasty though :)

If any readers have opinions regarding Fleur and her speech please let me know. I have a rough idea of the next few chapters - in them Fleur speaks English quite fluently though the 'h' sound is left out for pronunciation purposes and a smattering of French phrases can be seen. I would love to hear what you prefer or what you think works best!

Once again thank you for reviewing! All those who are following and the newest reviewer **IndieFoxProductions!**

To all those budding lawyers: I plead the fifth. . . does that work? Let's forget that I'm Irish and not American. Just have always wanted to say that phrase :)

* * *

The Christmas holidays flew past, as did the rest of the term. Hermione found, quite to her consternation, that summer was decidedly here and the date for the trip to France ever closer. Gone were the crisp days of spring, now the bright sunny days of July were waning into August and every night the same issues went round and round in her head. She dreamed of fatal accidents, unforeseen obstacles, awkward meetings bordering on unbearable and the everyday little things: like inadvertently forgetting to dress before meeting the host staff or some such horror. No wonder she had lost weight, sleep was at a premium between managing her classes and her new role, as was eating and free time.

The Triwizard Tournament increasingly occupied much of her schedule, both in class and outside of it. Each Head of House had suggested five suitable candidates to be trained and brought to France. Never had the prospect of dealing with twenty students been so daunting. All had volunteered for the chance to represent Hogwarts, which was, towards the end of the year, alive with speculation regarding the upcoming competition. Thankfully, there was a mix of both males and females; Hermione had always supported equal opportunity for school events. Unlike class groups these students had no real cliques to speak of and if they did their associates were not there to support them. Hermione relished the opportunity to teach without having to worry about too much messing going on; in its stead there was the issue of older students tending to dominate sessions. Added into this cauldron of fun the group itself was unusual, eclectic if you will, both in personality and magical strength. Violet, a talented Ravenclaw, lacked in decisive action whereas Jeremy was the complete opposite with the added joy of coming from the noble house of Slytherin and then there was Amy. Amy was much like Hermione, in the sense that she was muggleborn and not afraid to put herself forward. Unfortunately, when the time came to implement theory her practical results were less than desirable. And that was just a selection of the non-N.E.W.T. contingent.

It had been decided that should a N.E.W.T. student wish to compete they had to agree to extra tuition while abroad so that they were, to the Headmistress's mind, suitably prepared for their exams upon their return. Luckily that hadn't deterred many since half of the candidates turned out to be N.E.W.T. level, the rest being a combination of fifth and sixth years.

Just as in Hermione's day, there was a minimum age with regard to the entering of the competition; still she found that the gaps in ability and knowledge within the representative group wider than expected. It was very difficult to cater to the different needs of the prospective champions without boring some by going over spells they had already covered or losing their attention as she demonstrated charms that were far beyond their capability. Pairing the students up had almost ended in disaster; trying to find equal but suitably challenging opposition for practice was more difficult than one might think. Scorched robes aside her schedule of topics and arrangement of lessons were approved by McGonagall and written with the expert consultation of the Hogwarts staff.

Of course the students came with their own ideas of how they should be trained and with whom. Despite Hermione and her fellow staff members being the only ones to have witnessed a previous tournament, she found herself defending certain decisions made, more often than not to Slytherin candidates. By the end of the first month of training her patience was wafer thin.

_The room of requirement was clear of clutter bar one corner, which held stacks of thick, landing mats. Herimone directed the students to create a circle around four of the mats that had been placed in the centre of the room._

"_Budge up there! Yes, that's it," she directed, clapping her hands brusquely. "Okay, welcome back everyone. Today we are going to move onto defensive wards."_

_Circling the group slowly she outlined her plan for the two-hour session, checked that all the students wands were suitably prepared and that her own wards were holding steady. A final and crucial step that had been hard learned in earlier meetings._

"_In an attack sometimes the best defence is to secure your own position . . . sometimes. Defensive wards come in many forms, for example . . ."_

"_Professor, are we actually going to get started or will the next hour be wasted talking about what I am already familiar with?"_

_The interruption was abrupt despite the lazy tone with which it was delivered. Cut off mid-sentence Hermione did not respond immediately. Jeremy Stoatham had, for the last month, questioned, queried and pestered Hermione every step of the way. Blood relative to the Malfoys or not her capacity to maintain her cool had just evaporated._

_Pinching her thumb and forefinger together Hermione slowly faced the rat-like teen, who stared petulantly in her direction. Her withering gaze connected with his and, as many of the students would testify later to engrossed peers, Jeremy's slight twitch and blink of the eyes gave away his probable regret. Striding round the circle so that she was directly at his shoulder Hermione leaned forward._

"_Mr Stoatham, are you suggesting your skills in defensive wards ample enough to deal with whatever you might face?"_

_Her voice was steady, its crispness dementor-esque in its effect. Early on in her teaching career she realised that, in maintaining control, one rarely had to raise ones voice. Professor Snape, though horrendously cruel, had been a prime example of how a well delivered stare and whispered statement could achieve the desired result, usually with more success than a roared reprimand._

"_Look, Professor, as a N.E.W.T. student we have gone over these very wards time and time again! I don't need any revision, just something useful!"_

_Hermione smiled. The other students glanced at each other surreptitiously; as if sensing the growing seriousness of the situation._

"_Alright then Mr Stoatham, center of the circle, if you please?"_

_Confused the teenager twisted so that he could see whether it was definitely he Hermione was speaking to._

"_Come now, haven't got all day! Plenty of places for important people to be you know."_

"_Professor, I . . ."_

"_Center of the circle!"_

_Hermione's glare was enough to get the boy moving. Determined to continue with his façade of ease he swaggered confidently, grinning at his fellow students, towards the centre of their group. Once settled in his place, he raised his wand lazily in a defensive stance. As soon as Jeremy was ready Hermione smiled at him, and his fellow prospective champions, before moving to join him in the circle._

"_Mr Stoatham has been so good as to offer his services for a demonstration. He and I shall face off in this circle. Pay particular attention, if you will, to the spells enacted, defences that work and those that do not," she decreed, before the shocked group, "Right, lets begin!"_

_The Slytherin regained his composure quickly after his professors' announcement; firing off expelliarmus the minute Hermione had faced him. Dodging it easily she advanced. In the face of flying curses, charms and various other incantations Hermione barely paused in her slow but steady march, calmly batting the barrage of flying spells away or seemingly absorbing them without feeling their effects. Slowly but surely, the 7__th__ year found himself flat up against the barrier of the circle, a foreign wand held steadfastly at his throat._

"_And that, Mr Stoatham, is why I insist that you learn defensive wards" she whispered menacingly._

_Holding his shocked gaze Hermione moved back so that her wand relaxed its pressure on his throat. Eyeing the students, each in turn, she withdrew from the circle._

"_I do not care whether you feel that you are above such lessons. As your mentor I will make sure that each and every one of you has the equal opportunity to defend his or herself."_

_She stopped, breathed deeply and crossed her arms. Facing the group, of frankly terrified students, Hermione did her best to appear less intimidating. Holstering her wand securely she shrugged her shoulders, massaging her temples with a deep sigh as she did so._

"_I don't know what you will have to go up against but what I do know is that if you can't defend yourself there is no point in attacking. You will be out of the competition quicker than a Hogwarts House-elf can disapparate. And if any of you think different you are very foolish indeed."_

_Clearing her throat Hermione noted the lowered gazes of the pupils before her. Suitably chastised, they looked every bit the eager crew that she had encountered a month ago. Jeremy had taken the opportunity, while she was speaking, to slink from the center of the circle, joining his fellow candidates._

"_Now! Defensive wards can come in many forms, as I have just demonstrated. Did any of you recognise or note a spell used during that time?"_

Once the candidates had been selected parental permission had been an absolute necessity, thus news of the tournament spread fast. Ron, true to his word, hadn't spoken of what he and Hermione had discussed over Christmas. Fortunately he hadn't had to keep quiet for long. At the yearly New Years Eve Burrow gathering Hermione had shared her news.

Reactions had varied. Harry, the person with the most experience of the tournament, was surprisingly blasé about the idea, Ginny on the other hand had grabbed and shook Hermione such was her disagreement while the others offered varying views on whether they believed it to be a worthwhile event or not. Still Hermione was, surprisingly, dogged in her defence of McGonagall and the decision the staff had taken. Not once had she thought that she, Hermione Granger, champion of House-elves rights and harmless school activities, would be arguing the case of the most dangerous inter-school tournament.

Further research into the Triwizard Tournament had only served to highlight its spotted history, with tales of woe and magical mishap abound. Several had caught her eye and not always because of their horrendous consequences. For example back in the mid 16th century one unlucky contestant had been exposed to the pollen of a rare Amazonian plant; the Amazon had been the site of that particular task. For the rest of his life James Newell-Bothy could not sit without severe discomfort, an unfortunate if somewhat laughable situation. Not to James Newell-Bothy of course! However, in her desperation to find some kind of silver lining, she couldn't help but point out that the student's experience of another country and culture would be a fantastic opportunity.

"Yeah, just as they are trying to save their own skins the champion of Hogwarts will be determined to try a baguette! Come on Hermione!"

Not that Ginny didn't have a point but _really_ she was just trying to point out the positives in this whole mess. It was going to go ahead with or without her so why not be there for the students, offering what help she could. When Bill had, out of the blue, approached her Hermione very nearly knocked the table over. She and Bill had always had a cordial but distant relationship. What followed was definitely not something she had expected to hear.

"Relax there Hermione! Before you leap in with facts and figures on the history of injuries at the Triwizard Tournament I just wanted to ask you for a favour."

Hermione couldn't have guessed what he was going to say next but the awkward grin on his face should have clued her in somewhat.

"Look, I know you are going to be mad busy and such so I wouldn't ask normally," Bill rubbed the back of his neck with the one hand that wasn't stuffed into his pockets, " . . . could you say hi to Fleur for me?"

Gobsmacked wasn't the word and it must have shown because he had jumped right back in before she could even reply.

"Not that I want to start anything or the like! Fleur wrote that she had taken a position there and I didn't want her to think I wasn't aware she was there. It would be rude wouldn't it? Not asking you to say hi when I know that you will see her? I know you and Fleur didn't get to talk much or whatever but just a quick hello would do and 'Bill was saying to say hi' would be fine. If that suits, I know how busy you will be with the . . ."

"BILL!" When he continued to rant Hermione grabbed one waving limb to get his attention. "Bill! Calm down! No problem! Of course I'll say hi to Fleur."

"You will! Thanks Hermione, that's brilliant."

Hermione nearly laughed at the immediate release of tension that was evident in Bill's posture. Obviously he had been anticipating more resistance. Had her initial dislike of Fleur been _that_ plain?

"Bill don't be silly, Fleur and I didn't get to chat often, even when we stopped in Shell Cottage, but she really wasn't around that much. I probably would have said something even if you hadn't asked; I am going to be there for the guts of two to three months. My mother raised me better."

Bill grinned at her.

"You know you and Fleur actually have a lot in common. She was interested in magical law, seeing as she's part Veela and all, but decided to go into curse breaking before filling in this year to help Madame Maxime out."

"I wouldn't know Bill. Fleur was so busy at the tournament the only time I saw her was when she was competing. I was practically out of it after Malfoy Manor and then when I was off with Harry it was too dangerous. Look, I'll say hi alright but I'm probably going to be running round like a headless chicken with the students," stated Hermione, in a matter of fact tone.

No way was she agreeing to have in depth conversations with Fleur Delacour regarding magical law! Hah, it wasn't even going to be on her agenda. Quick hello, mention Bill, smile every once and a while, then goodbye when all's done. Basically the same amount of interaction she had had with the French witch in the snippets of time, over the course of three to four years, that they had found themselves in each others company.

"Ah yeah, yeah I agree completely. Just saying hi would be great. She's not very good at putting herself forward for long conversations you know. Doesn't find it that easy. Anything at all would be great! Thanks Hermione!"

"Actually while you're here Bill could I ask . . ."

Subject to an intense discussion for the next forty minutes regarding the possibilities of requiring students to make use of curse-breaking spells Bill almost wished he hadn't approached Hermione at all. Almost. He had to hand it to her; if there were a batch of well-prepared students they were about to be outshone by Hermione's gang.

'_Now only if Hermione could see the wood for the trees. . . then again she hasn't really had the opportunity before. Still I've done my fair share,'_ mused Bill to himself, grabbing another Butterbeer before wandering out to see what Charlie was up to in the garden.

Apart from dealing with fellow international colleagues, Hermione's involvement in the tournament was solely focused on the students chosen for the competition. That and readying herself for public appearances. Not her favourite activity at all!

McGonagall had pulled her aside before the holidays to remind her that they would be 'facing global and French media and public' so she would want to pack for most if not all occasions. A shopping trip with her mother, Molly and Ginny had resulted in two dresses for evening events and three smart robes for more public occasions. To cover her everyday needs she and her mother had ventured into London. Blazers, fitted shirts, knitwear and other bits and pieces had been purchased much to the delight of her mother. Hermione herself had been apprehensive about her current wardrobe recalling the stylish French women that she had encountered on those few family holidays spent on French campsites. _Chic_ was the only word that could be used to describe those women, eternally casual but chic. All of her latest buys would look smart under her teaching robes and that was all Hermione wanted. She might not look like something just off the Milan runway but at least she would be presentable!

Returning to Hogwarts in September she purposefully set aside those things she had bought for France and added to the small but substantial collection when the fancy took her. Scarves, gloves and hats littered the specially designated wardrobe, as did new leather boots and flat shoes she intended to wear everyday; they were that comfortable. The wardrobe also became a dumping ground for textbooks, potion ingredients, magical items and other titbits she randomly thought might be of some eventual use. Thus when the time came to pack, Hermione found herself agonising over very similar items in an attempt to cut down on luggage. Not surprisingly many of the discarded items still managed to find their way into her magically enhanced beaded bag. Even when on the run Hermione had never been that good at packing.

Late that second to last evening at Hogwarts Artemis, her long eared owl purchased under duress when her friends finally lost patience with her replying far too late, swooped in with a box addressed to her Hermione was surprised to say the least. Contained within the large package were letters from the Weasleys, as well as a warmly familiar bulky jumper in a dark wine colour from Molly, a book on French cuisine from Harry, new wand holster from Ron and stylish quill set from Ginny. All wished her well and informed her that they would stop by the evening before her departure to say goodbye in person. Including Bill and Charlie who both had just returned from assignment abroad. Bill had taken a leave of absence from Gringotts to fill in for Hermione at Hogwarts, along with the help of the remaining staff of course. Prepared as ever she quickly flicked through the stack of lesson plans she had organised for those taking care of her classes in her absence. Satisfied they were all in good order she returned to her delivery.

Pushing the new items into whatever nook or cranny she could find Hermione sat back and surveyed her quarters. One large case leaned against a medium sized hold all beside her wardrobe that now contained far less than before. Gaping holes on the bookshelves stood out starkly in her alphabetised library, random statuettes and nick nacks did nothing to fill the voids left by the books. Really it all looked rather bare. Still she did have most of her worldly possessions with her. Crookshanks would be relocated tomorrow to Professor Sinistras' apartment who had kindly agreed to feed the feline gneazle in her absence.

Content that all her belongings were ready to go and that she was fully prepared for what was to come Hermione collapsed on her bed, exhausted.

_How, in the name of all that is sacred, am I going to do this?_

Crawling under the covers she pulled them right up to her chin, anxious at the thought that tomorrow was her last day in England.

_There's nothing for it, can't back out now. Oh I wish that this was all just a dream. Miriel still hasn't managed to accio an object from outside a room; Joshua couldn't charm a useful ward if he tried and Sylvia . . ._

Rolling over onto her side, Hermione sighed heavily,

_I'm probably just being overly particular. They'll be fine, and if they aren't there's very little I can do about it now._

Slowly she gave way to sleep and dreams, the increasingly familiar variety, of the most unsettling sort involving French witches, dragons and endless mazes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors' Note: **Here we go - a little further on and closer to what we all, myself included, are waiting for :) Frenchies lol.

_Guest_ - I heard your plea and updated immediately . . . nah was going to update this evening anyway :) Glad to see that you are enjoying the story. Long may it continue!

_Andy, Lanero, monkgirl, Life-is-rolling-keep-on-going, sgtranglin: _thanks for your reviews and interest in the story :)

Seeing how I am from Ireland I did decide that St. Patrick's day was worthy of another chapter! And just to let you all know that as I am writing Hermiones' arrival and Fleurs' reaction other characters are coming into the mix!

Happy St. Patricks' Day - Hope you all had a safe and fun day :)

* * *

The bright red shone in the morning light, a glaring swathe of colour on the verdant, green lawns of the school. The colour itself was unusual, eye-catching, a cheery shade that Hermione associated with only good memories. Gleaming, it shimmered brilliantly, stretched like a snake basking in the warmth of the sun. Vein-like strips of gold, luminous in the light, ran from beginning to end. Panes of glass glistened, making it almost difficult to look at directly. Truly, Hogwarts had outdone itself.

"Blimey! I can't believe that they are using that as transport!" exclaimed Ron, hands on hips as he gazed at the Hogwarts Express.

"How have you managed to get it airborne?" asked Harry, scratching at his head bemusedly.

Hermione laughed, even after years of living in the magical world, she and Harry still held on to some of their muggle incredulity. True, it hadn't been easy but between herself and Professor Flitwick it was now one of the smoothest vessels the school had to offer.

"The Hogwarts Express is like any object Harry. It can be manipulated. A few well chosen charms here and there and voila!" clapped Hermione, glowing triumphantly.

The train was more than suitable to accommodate both students and chaperones. With six carriages set-aside for students, three for herself, McGonagall and Pomfrey, a common room and dining cart the Hogwarts Express was more than adequate. One could possibly say quite decadent; then again this was an opportunity to show off a little. Each carriage was equipped with four beds and an adjoining bathroom. Boys and girls were separated by the Common room cart, reminiscent of the dormitories within the castle itself. Her own carriage was smaller by comparison, in fairness it didn't have to house four bodies! Still she found the bed, table and ensuite quite comfortable. Poppy Pomfrey had agreed to accompany the students, her medical talents unquestionable, so long as she had a base from which she could conduct tests and provide treatment. Hermione and Professor Flitwick had spent the better part of three days adjusting the charms to allow for the extra carriages. Hermione herself had overseen the addition of the medical carriage and added further spells for increased steadiness, soundproofing and cleanliness. Laid out now in its entirety, the Hogwarts Express was impressive. Equally striking as the Durmstrang ship or Beauxbaton carriages of the last tournament.

"Still I won't believe it until I see it!" Harry smiled, grinning at her obvious pride.

"Oh please, if ever there was a witch who could have a full-blown steam train sailing like a firebolt its Hermione!" admonished Ginny, giving her husband a teasing smack on the arm.

"Amazing charm work Hermione, quite brilliant. Flying poxies would have been another possibility but much more volatile to work with . . ." agreed Luna, scanning the train with her trademark quizzical gaze.

Last night the five friends, joined by the rest of the Weasleys and others, had enjoyed a meal together. Chatting late into the night the group recalled the previous tournament: the twins' ill-fated attempts to trick the Goblet of Fire, Cedric Diggorys' untimely death and the tasks that had been presented. Laughing and joking with friends, Hermione had found it hard to remember the sheer terror she had experienced the night of the maze task. It all seemed like it had happened so long ago and to someone else. Revisiting those memories had been both a happy and sad affair, even with Ginny's impression of Fleurs' first attempt at conversation.

"Ze bouillabaisse! Pleaze!" she demanded, looking every inch the commanding French witch.

Still Hermione worried for her students and their safety. It nagged at her day and night, except for those times when favourable company banished it, if only momentarily. She was there to protect them but she could only do so much, after that it was all up to them.

"Let's head back in yeah? Starting to get a bit nippy out here!" moaned Ron, rubbing his arms up and down exaggeratedly.

"Yeah, yeah Ronnekins! After you!" teased Ginny, shoving her brother before her.

As the group wound its way up the lawn to the castle Harry and Hermione hung back slightly, chatting quietly about the weeks ahead. Ron and Ginny joked with each other casually, looking every inch the brother and sister, more so than Hermione could have ever imagined back in their school days. Rons' arm hugged his wife to his side protectively while Ginny had wound her own into his remaining free arm.

_When did we all get so old looking?_

"Right, out with it then. How are you feeling about all of this? Really?"

The question came out of nowhere and for a minute Hermione was stumped. Really most people didn't give Harry Potter enough credit, well . . . maybe just not in the right areas. He had always been quite perceptive . . . for a boy.

"I never expected to be in this position but now that I am . . . well let's just say I am finding it hard to not care about how we do," Hermione smiled apologetically.

"To be honest Mione I would have been surprised if you hadn't! Who, in all our year, cared more about house points than you? You've always done well or pushed me or Ron to do well so why wouldn't you want that for your students?"

Hermione snorted dismissively, throwing her arms out in a gesture of complete abandon.

"I don't know! Maybe because this tournament is one of the most dangerous in the known world? Maybe I shouldn't be too competitive about it! After watching you Harry, and what you had to go through, I don't know how to feel about sending kids I teach into that environment. As a professor you always, even for those students you're not too fond of, want them to do well and to be safe. This is the very antithesis of what I should want for them!"

Ron, Luna and Ginny had finally reached the entrance of the castle and were inside before Harry replied.

"Look Hermione, stop," he pulled her to a standstill in the courtyard, "take a deep breath and relax."

Holding her firmly by the shoulders Harry locked eyes with one of his oldest friends. She hadn't changed that much: with her hair nestled into a haphazard bun and woollen scarf thrown over one shoulder he could almost believe it was the Hermione of the time turner incident, the Hermione of Gringotts Bank, the Hermione of the final battle. It wasn't just her appearance either. Looking carefully Harry could clearly see passion, flinty determination and insecurity shining in those hazel eyes he knew all too well.

"Now, repeat after me," he ordered firmly, "My students will do well. I will do my best. That is all I can do."

Groaning Hermione laughed at the silliness of the situation. Shrugging half-heartedly she tested his grip on her. It was firm.

"Oh come off it!"

"No! Now say it!"

Realising that she wasn't going to get anywhere near the Great Hall or lunch until she acquiesced Hermione smiled, almost indulgently, before settling herself and doing as requested. Harry's green eyes stared at her from behind the black-rimmed spectacles he continued to wear, despite her offers of help regarding his vision. He didn't look much older in the face; in fact he looked about eighteen, only taller and slightly broader than he had been at that age. It was his eyes. It had always been his eyes that had given him away. Right now they were unflinching in their gaze. She had always felt calm and confident when Harry was in this sort of mood.

"My students will do well. I will do my best. That is all I can do."

Considering her earnestly Harry nodded, as if happy with what he saw.

"Good. Now lets get some lunch before you jet off for good old France!"

Throwing his arm about her shoulders Harry squeezed Hermione reassuringly, moving toward the castle doors conveniently left ajar.

* * *

Hermione was roused from her thoughts by a particularly nasty bump. Rubbing her brow she glared at the window, its once perfect shine ruined by her resting forehead. Air Turbulence: the one thing that made this journey less than perfect.

Thus far the Hogwarts Express had seen its passengers safely from the crowded, cheering lawn of its school, over the twinkling lights of London city to the fresh green fields of France without much trouble, aside from the odd pocket of air turbulence that is! Sighing Hermione glanced at the clock hanging on the opposite wall above her desk; it would only be a couple of hours until they arrived. Stretching out the kinks in her back, Hermione stood, regarded herself in the mirror briefly before opening the door to the empty hallway.

Strolling down the corridor she fingered her wand in its holster absentmindedly reviewing spells to test before the week was out. It was a habit she had formed recently: repeating lists of spells to herself. She found it quite excellent as a form of meditation.

Her carriage was nestled between the split carriages of the male and female candidates, placing it right beside the common and dining carriages. Pomfrey was located to the rear of the train beside her medical carriage while McGonagall guarded the fore of the steam engine with a reception room attached to her quarters for official visits. Most of the students were still abed, probably wrecked from the excitement of the departure. Families had turned up to wish them well, clogging the already bursting lawns. When added to the host of Hogwarts itself, it had made for a busy goodbye!

Gripping the handle to the common cart firmly she slid it aside easily. Stepping through quickly the door slid shut behind her, clicking audibly. Moving toward the stovetop Hermione noticed a curled figure underneath a blanket on the couch, obviously startled by her arrival.

"Can't sleep Amy?"

The young girl smiled shyly at her professor from behind a copy of 'Defensive manoeuvres and their Uses'. Hermione watched, wincing internally, as Amy turned down the corner of the page she was on before closing the reference book and returning it to its proper shelf.

"Not really professor. Too excited to sleep!"

Hermione chuckled affably, continuing with her blind search for a cup in a cupboard as she did so. Grasping a handle she yanked out a suitable cup, pulled a tea bag from a container and muttered the required spell before sitting at the large dining table off to one side of the room. Even now Hermione wasn't particularly fond of calling on house-elves to complete simple tasks, though four had been assigned to care for the Hogwarts Express and its occupants.

"You might want to try and catch some rest before we arrive. If I remember correctly the welcoming feast will be the very same evening. By the end of that you will wish you had slept when you had the chance!"

Hermione waved her hand absentmindedly as she advised her student, not paying the slightest bit of attention to its results. A spoon stirred her tea clockwise exactly three times before removing the used tea bag to allow the jug on the table to pour some milk to finish the job.

Amy tugged the blanket she had wrapped round her pyjama-clad legs up round her shoulders, watching the effortless use of wandless magic silently before replying. Sitting opposite one of the most powerful witches at Hogwarts, and possibly the world, she couldn't help but ask the question that had been burning a hole in her head for quite a while.

"Professor Granger," she whispered intently, "do we have a chance?"

"A chance at what?" replied Hermione distractedly, as she sipped at the now ready tea.

"A chance at winning this?"

The question was the second time in the space of a week that had stopped Hermione in her tracks, first Harry and now one of her candidates. She would really have to sort herself out.

"Of course we do. As good a chance as any, I suppose. Perhaps you are asking me if I believe we can win it? Hmmm?"

Amy bit her lip, nodding meekly at her professor's expression. The famous eyebrow raise was Professor Grangers' signature look; it inspired both fear and anxiety in most students no matter their age. The older witch had always struck Amy as being honest. Nobody had ever come out of Professor Grangers' class without having been told what they needed to do or what they were capable of. She was notorious for being forthright with her pupils, a characteristic that was both admired and loathed.

"Well," Hermione sighed, "I believe we have prepared to the best of our ability, I believe I have taught you as much as is possible, I believe that you are all ready and willing to compete. So . . . I believe we do have a chance at winning this tournament. Do you?"

"I think so professor."

"Well then, that's all you and I need to know. Now, go to bed for at least an hour, we will be arriving at Beauxbaton in two or three. I can study with you and tell you how to prepare, I cannot, however, remedy tiredness that easily."

Grinning at Hermione Amy threw her blanket over the back of the couch before disappearing down the corridor towards the girls' compartments, a hurried goodbye thrown over her departing shoulder. Sipping her tea Hermione stared at the now closed door. _I wonder are they as confident as I am?_ Snorting amusedly she quietly hoped they were, if not more so.

Hermione rubbed her face despairingly. Exhausted and the damn thing hadn't even begun! Finishing off the last dregs of tea she placed the cup back in the kitchen area before wandering off to sort out her outfit for their arrival.

* * *

"Professor Granger, are the students ready?" called McGonagall from the corridor.

"Ready and waiting Headmistress!" replied Hermione, casting one final look over the assembled candidates before her.

McGonagall swept into the common carriage looking every inch the Headmistress of one of the top wizarding schools in Europe. Dressed in her usual blend of emerald green and black she looked formidable, despite the fine silver embroidery work on her robes. Hat in hand she stared at the assembled students, all of whom had been checked by Hermione herself. Their ties straightened, cloaks brushed, shirts buttoned and crests visible, the group looked quite well.

"We are due to land at Beauxbatons Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry in half an hour," began McGonagall, making sure every student was paying attention. "When we land we will be greeted by the Headmistress of that fine establishment, Madame Maxime. Madame Maxime is rather . . ." here she paused, "like Hagrid. As such I expect you all to treat her with the same respect and courtesy that you extend to myself, Professor Granger and the staff at Hogwarts."

Moving down through the ranks of the students McGonagall inspected each line, brushing lint from tense shoulders, pulling the odd cloak to straighten out a crease that had caught her eye.

"You are representing your school. That is not just your house, that is not just your family, it is your professors, your fellow school mates, myself and, most importantly, all those competitors that have come before you!"

If they hadn't felt the weight of history before, it most definitely was making its presence known now. Hermione felt as if she were back in first year, gazing up at the formidable figure that Minerva McGonagall cut wondering what exactly was in store for her.

"Hogwarts has a fine and honoured reputation, I would have you all live up to it. Manners above all else children," stated Minerva, hat perched upon her head, and hands clasped in front. "I am proud to be your Headmistress, just as Professor Granger is proud to be your mentor. I would not have brought you here if I did not have every confidence that you will be challenged and rise to the occasion." Raising her index finger she observed the small gathering authoritatively, "I do **not** require you to win . . ."

A murmuring erupted from the student body; Hermione herself glanced askance at the woman beside her. McGonagalls' lips twitched as she raised her hands calmly, soothing the group of bewildered students before her.

"Would I like you to win? Of course. Would I like you to give your best? Most assuredly. Do I require you to win for your professors and I to be proud of you? Definitely not. Am I making myself clear?"

Hermione smiled softly at the hopeful students; gone were the held breaths, chewed lips and anxious tapping. McGonagall might not possess the wonderful oddity that had surrounded Dumbledore nor his unusual oratory skills but Hermione had to admire her ability to expect the best but accept what was possible. That and her talent in conveying that to her students.

"And now I want to hand over to Professor Granger for a final few words."

Hermione nodded at her superior before facing the crowd of students. Breathing deeply she searched for the phrases she needed, she wanted.

"To begin with, you have all done remarkably well to be here. Know that your houses, professors and school are proud of your achievements. Now I am not going to go on for long because we have perhaps fifteen minutes left?

When we arrive stay in your house groups, we will be led to the main feasting hall where each school will be introduced. I believe that we are to be last. You all know the spell we have been practicing, remember your timing, on the count of three. Walk steadily, do not rush, and do not dilly-dally. The hall is, supposedly, much similar to Hogwarts so please try not to worry too much. It will all go off perfectly as long as you are all paying attention to what you are doing! Now lets all take a seat, the landing will be a little disorientating."

Just as the last students had placed themselves on a chair the carriages took a distinct dive, not one that would through the room off their feet but could have most definitely caused a loss of balance. Having the benefit of a seat near the window Hermione watched the clouds dissipate to reveal a beautiful river valley, full of meadows and open fields. Ahead she could see what appeared to be a ruined chateaux, crumbling walls suggested a majestic house had once stood there. Closing her eyes she waited for the heaviness of the cloaking spell to lift. Hermione felt, rather than saw the magical barrier being permeated, for when she opened her eyes an impressive turreted building lay ahead.

Its walls seemed to made of sandstone and lime, creating a brighter façade than that of Hogwarts. Where Hogwarts was medieval in ways Beauxbatons was almost Romantic, it could have very easily been used in a fairytale as the castle of a beautiful princess. All round the castle lay open, flowering meadows, one of which served as a quidditch pitch, easily spotted due to its high rings and seats, another housed large gardens, complete with a fabricated wilderness at the end of a winding path. Hermione counted eight spires before the Hogwarts Express levelled out on approach to the main gates. Before the train ground to a halt Hermione dropped the drapes back to their original position, focusing her attention on the students.

Standing up she nodded to McGonagall, patting her robes down as she did so. Poppy stood to the rear of the carriage, her responsibility being arranging the ordered alighting of the train. Giving her students one last encouraging smile Hermione followed Minerva out to the empty corridor and main door of the train. Sunlight streamed through the open door, blinding Hermione momentarily before she was able to shield her eyes. _Perhaps a hat might not have been a bad idea._ Adjusting quickly to the light she moved to McGonagalls' side, watching the students disembark behind her.

"Ahh Madame McGonagall! Bienvenue! Welcome, welcome to Beauxbatons!"

The years had not diminished Madame Maxime; she stood, as tall as ever, dressed in resplendent robes before a large gathering of blue. Ever expressive, her welcome was almost comical in ways. Looking at the woman you could not ask for a person more different to Minerva McGonagall. The two together could have made a wonderful double act on a travelling show: Maxime the flamboyant entertainer, Minerva the proper lady.

"Madame Maxime, we are delighted to be here! Thank you for your hospitality and welcome."

"Ah my friend, it 'as been too long!" bending forward, Madame Maxime, placed two delicate kisses on the headmistress' cheeks. Quite the feat considering her wide brimmed hat.

"And Mademoiselle Granger! How fortunate, you have joined us also! An unexpected pleasure! Bienvenue à Beauxbatons!"

Hermione barely had time to reply before she too received two kisses, one on either cheek. A cloud of perfume descended, almost robbing Hermione of her breath.

"Merci pour votre invitation, Madame."

"De rien, Mademoisell, de rien!" she replied, smiling broadly at Hermione. Turning towards the students assembled behind the two women Madame Maxime once again extended her arms. "And to you students a most special welcome!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors' note: **A huge thank you to everyone who has been reading this story and for your words of encouragement! I'm delighted that so many of you are enjoying it!

_Lanero, Jaely and Cibbler - _ thanks for taking the time to review! It really is appreciated.

As for the guests who also reviewed thanks as well!

Okay so we have finally reached Beauxbatons! Again I won't lie but interaction between our two leading ladies is not going to appear out of thin air. I am trying to be as realistic as possible :)

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Lined out behind Madame Maxime the staff of Beauxbatons were a rigid bunch._ Quite funny really, coming from an English professor! _Hermione smiled secretly to herself, her gaze sweeping across the crowds gathered before the Hogwarts delegation. Straight-shouldered and with chins forward, they exuded an air of confidence and pride that only the French can achieve without looking too haughty . . . well in most cases.

Hermione noted the number of female professors was on par with their male counterparts; both groups mixed equally with seemingly no divide. Here and there glimpses of individual style broke the uniformity of dress; velvet lined cuffs, gold-buttoned waistcoat, a single white plume on one chest. Obviously there had been directions as to the presentation of staff at the welcoming ceremony. They were a striking party: four or five seemed to have a hint of mixed heritage, not an unusual occurrence given the closer ties in the French wizarding community to magical creatures. Historically the French had always been a little more open than their English counterparts, in more ways than one.

Included in their arrangement were various representatives from the French Ministry of Magic, journalists and one or two photographers. The occasional flash alerting Hermione to the presence of cameras: an unwelcome but necessary evil to her mind. Hermione forced herself to smile openly, hoping her efforts were satisfactory, as she scanned the crowd of students standing behind the taller row of adults. Just as she remembered the Beauxbatons uniform was a silky ensemble of a light blue colour with sophisticated caps and half capes to complete the look. Inquisitive eyes gazed back at her and beyond. Her students, no doubt feeling the weight of French examination as much as she was, shuffled audibly in their places. A flash of silver in the corner of her eye dragged her focus from the sky blue crowd.

At the far end of the line of professors stood one she was vaguely familiar with. Fleur Delacour looked as refined as ever, resplendent despite the dull colour of her robes. Now Hermiones' suspicion was confirmed, she would never have envisaged Fleur choosing vermilion robes for herself. Still the part Veela made that rich colour work, her hair striking against its warm hues. Blue eyes sparkled mischievously, deceivingly innocent in their appearance. The fierce intelligence that lay behind them had been clear to all at Hogwarts during the first test and those that had followed. Hermione recalled gazing in awe at the French witch's charm work during the first task, her hand movements definite and refined. Visions of a younger Fleur raced through her mind as she examined the now older witch. Seamlessly their eyes met and Hermione realised she was not the only person scrutinising the opposition.

Holding Fleurs' gaze steadily Hermione nodded slightly out of courtesy. The French witch grinned at the acknowledgement, her own nod in Hermione's direction enough to satisfy her. It was now getting a little awkward . . .this prolonged eye contact. Whatever the French custom Fleur looked positively at ease, studying Hermione with an intensity that made the subject in question shrug her shoulders uneasily to maintain some semblance of composure. Failing miserably Hermione decided that she would have to be the one to break their little. . . whatever it was. Turning away from the alluring witch she missed the fond smile that graced Fleurs' lips, as if she were pleased with what she had discovered.

Giving her attention once more to the larger than life Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Hermione realised she had zoned out for the majority of the speech given to the students behind her. Embarrassed by her lack of attention she directed her eyes towards their host, intentionally clearing her mind of any thoughts pertaining to what had just occurred.

" . . . if ever you 'ave any difficulty please ask a student or professor for 'elp. We are 'ere to make sure you enjoy your stay.'

Turning once more to the assembled crowd Madame Maxime skilfully applied the sonorous charm before speaking.

"Please," her voice ringing triumphantly across the meadow, "let us move inside. The light is fading and the feast awaits!"

How the larger than life woman moved with such grace was inexplicable to Hermione who found deportment one of her own failings. Madame Maxime swept towards the entrance to the academy assuredly, the staff trailing in her wake. Wresting her focus from the unusual Headmistress Hermione noted how the late evening sun was now quite low in the sky, not far off from sunset.

Leaning closer to McGonagall, Hermione drew the Headmistress' attention from the masses moving towards the castle.

"Shall I stay with the students? I'm sure Madame Maxime will want the Heads of the schools with her as she enters the castle."

_That is if anyone can keep pace with her!_

"Just until we have reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Your seat will be at the top table, when the students are settled come in. Don't want to face this all by myself thank you very much!"

Chuckling Hermione squeezed McGonagalls' shoulder in solidarity as the older witch moved to follow Madame Maxime. The elder witch strode confidently among the French officials, not perturbed in the least at being surrounded by foreign and unfamiliar people. Grinning at the Headmistress' quiet dignity Hermione could only admire her poise. Poppy Pomfrey scurried forward, fixing her hair haphazardly as she did so.

"Now Professor, how shall we go about this?"

Hermione had always appreciated Madame Pomfreys' no nonsense attitude. She was always straight to the point and into action before anyone else had even begun to consider their next move. A valuable asset to any team and one that had been utilised to great effect during the Great War. Many of the staff had been considered as a third supervisor but Poppy stood above them all. Having dealt with the witch more than most of the Hogwarts student population Hermione considered her to be, almost, family.

"Poppy would you mind taking the back of the group? I want them to follow me to the Great Hall. Once we have them sorted for the introduction you and I can go in beforehand to our seats."

"Of course, of course. Right-o!"

Marching round to the back of the group the elder woman spoke sternly in passing with an overly excited Hufflepuff before pointedly directing their attention to Hermione.

"Okay everyone, the introduction will take place before the feast. Madam Pomfrey and myself will take you to the entrance of the Great Hall; there we will be told where you are sitting. We'll leave you to your preparations and join the Headmistress inside before the introductions begin. Please try and keep with the group!"

Nodding at the students with as confident a smile as she could muster Hermione turned and proceeded steadily up the gentle slope to the gravel path leading to the castle. Ahead she could see the tall figure of Madame Maxime passing between the lofty pillars either side of the entrance, her staff and other heads in toe. The Durmstrang contingent were now visible: their bright red tunics, dark breeches and boots reminded Hermione of the first time she had seen Victor. Their group was equally as large as Hogwarts, completely male of course, though it was hard to tell the boys ages. They were all quite tall and broad, the heavy fur cloaks not making the task any easier.

Nearing the entrance to the castle itself the group was granted a reprieve from the waning evening sun. Towering turrets provided alternate strips of shade along the courtyard leading to the main doors. Once inside Hermione could see the similarities and differences between Beauxbatons and Hogwarts. Though both were made of stone, the lighter shade of the French castle required fewer torches along the halls, many of which were sporadically brightened by huge glass windows both plain and coloured. They stretched from the floor to vaulted ceiling, magnificently contrived to uphold the original structure of the corridor.

Once upon a time many of these must have been open to the air . . . hmm, cleverly done.

Hermione particularly liked the coloured panes, the vibrant colours reflected off of the stone opposite in a kaleidoscope of tones. Each coloured window seemed to have a theme; some depicted events in wizarding history, mainly French of course, while others were similar to the Rose window in Notre Dame.

Struggling to reign in her curiosity, Hermione kept her an eye on the group of Durmstrang students being led by a tall man, whose cloak billowed about him as he walked. It dragged along the ground, much like Professor Snapes had. His, however, had been of a lighter quality; he hadn't produced the same heavy sound. Instead Severus' cape had whipped through the air, much like a crow in flight. The chaperone before her was swathed in a heavy fur-lined cloak: most likely bear or some other such weighty creature. Hermione noted the use of a staff: not uncommon in more northerly wizarding communities, though his did not seem to have any magical properties. _If it did he wouldn't be thumping it so heavily on the smooth stone underfoot. _

The Great Hall was a short distance from the main door and at a glance, that Hermione had managed to get round the heads of the smaller Durmstrang students, it was of a similar length to Hogwarts. With a final few words of encouragement and smiles of confidence Hermione left the group with Poppy to find their Headmistress.

The sheer volume of natural light shocked Hermione. Much like the corridor lofty windows framed either side of the hall basking its tables in sunlight. It created a bright atmosphere; still she loved the cosiness Hogwarts exuded with its more shadowed rooms.

"My eyes are starting to water with all this sun!" whispered Poppy, adjusting her glasses quickly.

"It is quite the change from Hogwarts," agreed Hermione genially.

Spotting Minerva at the head table Hermione nudged Poppy, nodding in their Headmistress' general direction. Following the matron Hermione ignored the stares of the students all round her, unconsciously tugging at her sleeve. The hall seemed to go on forever and Poppy was not one to dawdle. Hermione had never become accustomed to the attention she continued to receive.

_Still one would think that turning completely round in your seat to gawk at guests passing by would have been covered in the 'How to not offend visitors' talk. _

Rather than mulling on it she took the time instead to admire the masonry that lined the ceiling. The four corners of the hall were dotted with gargoyles that she could have sworn either winked or blinked at her. _Honestly, does that French charm pervade everything? Animate and inanimate? _The whole room exuded delicacy and elegance, even the stonework! Taking her seat between Pomfrey and McGonagall Hermione rested her palms on her lap, resisting the urge to stare at the doors through which the group would be making their entrance. Instead she resorted to what had been a learned habit during the war, assessing your position and company.

"_Main entrance is out_," Hermione thought to herself, "_much too far away. The windows . . . a possibility. Curse a specific one and get out, hmm . . . drop beyond might be troublesome. No, it would have to be one of these doors behind me. Chances are the one to the left is to the kitchens, being on the outside wall. Slip out, bar it behind me and run."_

Smiling at her own peculiarity Hermione began to inspect those closest to her. To their immediate left sat the French Ministry officials, between various members of Beauxbaton staff. _No serious threat there. _None of the French officials struck her as being from the auror division, not one was eyeing exits or fingering their wands anxiously. _Paper pushers no doubt._ Hermione had observed the sort for a year and a half, had been one past the three Hogwarts chaperones on the right sat Madame Maxime with her deputy head and on their right the Durmstrang contingent with the remainder of the Beauxbaton staff filling the opposite end of the table. _Well if I wasn't sure before the number of people to my right has rendered that remaining door obsolete._

Company and position accounted for she decided to fix her gaze on the hall noted the unusual width of it, considerably wider than Hogwarts it almost looked comical but then again perhaps this was a magical adjustment for the duration of the tournament. On either side of the hall were empty tables half the length of those occupied by Beauxbatons students. The one on the right lay underneath the Hogwarts crest, while the one on the left flew the Durmstrang crest above it._ Easier evacuation for Hogwarts students, should it come to that. Direct access to the left-hand door._

"Strange not to be looking at houses isn't it?" muttered McGonagall, noting Hermione's inspection.

"Yes, I would have thought that the students would be more mixed? Like the arrangements made for the tournament at Hogwarts," replied Hermione, taking a sip of water from the glass to her right.

"I suppose they didn't want any fighting between the year groups. Moreover this is the first time this school has seen boys in its corridors in a long time! Can you imagine the jostling for position if they had decided to mix our lot in?"

"Quite right Poppy. I hadn't considered that," answered Minerva.

Before they could discuss the arrangements further Madame Maxime stood, garnering the attention of the crowd.

"It is my pleasure to once again welcome our visiting schools to Beauxbatons Academy of Witchcraft!"

Waiting patiently for the applause to die down she cleared her throat in lady like manner before continuing.

"The Triwizard Tournament 'as a long and interesting 'istory. We will endeavour to continue that tradition, with 'onour and pride! Firstly let us welcome our visitors. From the northern reaches the representatives from Durmstrang!"

As soon as the school name had finished ringing about the hall the Durmstrang boys made their entrance. Marching in time they were an impressive sight, intimidating and fierce in both stature and facial expression. Once they had lined the main path from the doors to the head table they knelt, staffs outstretched. Suddenly four boys burst from the entrance completing acrobatic twists as they leapt towards the head table. Magically conjured fire was thrown the height of the room as the four main pupils finally came to a stop at the top of the hall. The applause that followed was deafening, Hermione herself was impressed with the skill displayed. Magical fire was not an easy element to conjure and control. Hopefully her own students would live up to expectations.

"Wonderful! Wonderful! Now to our final group, those representatives from 'Ogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

Every head was turned towards the doors of the hall; Hermione rubbed the palms of her hands on her lap desperately trying to remain calm. As the doors swung open she nodded at Nathan, a N.E.W.T. Griffyndor student. He strode confidently down the central aisle, pausing briefly when he reached the middle of the room to steady himself. With a few whispered words his outstretched wand produced a fountain of Hogwarts colours that created a large floating image of the school crest above the center of the hall. Behind Nathan four rows of students, in their respective house groups, entered in unison before stopping and collectively producing their house mascots. The spell was one Hermione herself had tweaked so that the students could produce a patronus-like creature. A golden badger bounded alongside an impressive scarlet lion. Swooping elegantly a silver eagle followed overhead while an emerald python slithered its way powerfully behind. Amazed Beauxbatons students reached, fingertips outstretched, as if to test the verity of what their eyes were seeing. Their hands passed through the images; whisps of magical residue left in their wake. All the mascots joined with Nathans' earlier work to create a living, breathing Hogwarts crest in the center of the astonished hall.

Silence reigned as the charm faded and the relieved Hogwarts students bowed. Hermione swallowed her nerves, beaming at the group who had done so well. Like a clap of thunder the hall broke out into cheers and hoots of approval. The Hogwarts students smiled jovially at the crowd, accepting the appreciation modestly, before taking their seats at their table.

"Excellente! Formidable! My, my we are soo fortunate to 'ave such accomplished students competing this year!" complimented Madame Maxime, nodding to both parties.

"Well we now will toast to a new tournament," announced Madame Maxime, goblets appearing before every guest, "to a great tournament, to those competing and to the honour of those who 'ave competed before!"

The upstanding students and adults drank from their goblets, before sitting to meal that had food of every kind and taste.


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors' Note: **Because I feel guilty at the lack of Fleur Hermione interaction I decided to publish this chapter ahead of time! Fleur all the way folks! - hopefully I have the French witchs' state of mind right :)

Again my thanks to everyone who is reviewing. I am delighted that people are enjoying this but I'm also taking what you say into consideration. I will try and have chapters move a little faster. I don't have the next written but I couldn't wait to share this with you all.

Ps: feed back on the English of the French characters would be great - I don't know whether to make it more pronounced or not? BTW I don't think my knowledge of French is comprehensive enough to have those characters having full conversations in it. I also am not a big fan of scrolling for English translations or reading an English translation after a paragraph of French hence the style of writing and amazingly fluent French professors! ha ha.

I will leave your imaginations to fill in French language mutterings rather than crucify you with scrolling for meaning :) Enjoy!

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Fingers picked deftly at the mandarin on the plate, plucking segments that were rolled before being deposited in a dainty mouth. The progression of the fruit to the palate engrossed her. More so than the animated expression the object of her fascination currently displayed while conversing with her peers. No matter the slightly more tamed curls teased into a loose but elegant bun, the slim figure hugged by light dress robes or full eyelashes framing hazel irises. Even from a distance those refined hands and their current occupation preoccupied her every thought, much to her own companions' dismay.

"Fleur! Mon Dieu, Où êtes-vous? Fleur!"

A distinctly masculine hand, an ugly hand to her mind, waved to and fro in her line of vision. Disgruntled the part Veela spun in her chair, glaring at the unwelcome intruder.

"Etienne! Quoi?" she replied, irritated by his persistence.

The young man in question smirked at Fleur, delighted no doubt that the 'ice queen' was ruffled.

"What 'as caught you're attention so? Hmmm? Dites-moi," he quizzed, chin in palm.

Sighing Fleur shook her head exasperatedly. The young professor was almost as new as she to Beauxbatons and had made almost as many waves. Thick black hair framed a handsome face, strong jaw and clear blue eyes: all of which was perched on a tall but slim frame that had the girls swooning from the first day. Etienne not only had looks but charm also. He knew how to talk to women, and men, making it very difficult to dislike him, though Fleur had tried her utmost. Since they had both started round the same time he seemed to take it that they were comrades marooned in a sea of older, reserved professors who wouldn't know fun if it hit them in the face. Despite her best efforts he brushed aside all coolness and remained annoyingly chirpy.

"Etienne can I not daydream? Must you know everything?" she replied, "You are like an infant!"

The young man smiled at Fleur. He was quite aware of what had caught his fellow professors' focus: the pretty brunette with Hogwarts, Hermione Granger. Her fidgeting and determined examination of the skies before the arrival of the Hogwarts representatives had alerted Etienne to Fleurs' nervousness. Amazingly she hadn't calmed until a slim figure had alighted from a marvellous steam engine. Quite dumbfounded by the revelation he had kept his observations to himself, knowing that dinner would provide some cover for his prying. Still he knew better than to confront her directly: once bitten twice shy.

"But of course! You just leave me 'ere to entertain myself . . ." he murmured, folding his arms resignedly, "What bad company you are!"

The fully-grown man had all the characteristics of a toddler in a sulk, a cute one at that. Fleur rolled her eyes at his behaviour, before returning to her previous occupation.

"Pardonnez-moi but your sprightly nature is showing mon ami."

His hand clapped over his chest dramatically, eyes and mouth twisted in a look of utmost devastation.

"Fleur! You wound me! Please tell me it isn't true!" he moaned, as if mortally wounded.

Then as suddenly as he had created the façade it disappeared to be replaced by a sly, knowing countenance. "If anything both of our 'eritages are showing!"

Suddenly Etienne was faced with a less than amused Delacour. Fleurs' frosty gaze was unrelenting; spearing a carrot she chewed it decisively as if to contain her ire. She had never appreciated comments about her mixed blood, innocent or otherwise. Usually it was out of jealousy or anger: that had been a tough lesson to learn. Etienne was fortunate in one way, his own ancestors allowed him more freedom when interacting with the blonde witch and he knew it. He didn't cower in the face of her displeasure like most: a fact she both loved and hated about him.

From their first meeting Fleur had sensed the innate magical abilities he possessed. Though not of Veela blood Etienne had qualities that produced similar effects on the muggle and wizarding population alike. Intrigued she had done what she knew best; researched. Finally after a month of fruitless toiling in the library she had succumbed to her base nature after a prolonged session of fencing indelicate inquiries.

_The man just did not know when to stop. Her glares seemed to have no effect or the cold silence she maintained despite his best efforts at monotonous conversation. Not an hour ago she had finished a manuscript from the 12__th__ century she had thought would be the key to understanding what exactly Etienne was. A hundred pages of ancient Latin read and she was no further with her research than she had been three weeks ago. Never had research frustrated her so._

"_I just do not understand why these girls insist on dropping in essays late! They do realise that I will not correct them?"_

_Etienne paused in his monologue to glance at the obviously peeved witch at his side._

"_Of course you are right Fleur! I refuse to correct work submitted two weeks late. I know I am perhaps a little more lax than you but still . . ."_

_Again he paused to take a forkful of potatoes before swallowing and continuing once more. Fleur had had to endure this constant nattering since he had arrived a month ago. Places at the head table were assigned according to seniority thus there was no relief. Sadly living quarters were assigned in a similar fashion leaving her no escape until she closed her door behind her. Clutching her fork she breathed deeply, desperately trying to remain calm._

_Ignorant of the imminent danger, or perhaps wilfully prodding it, Etienne continued his one-sided dialogue right through dinner, dessert and in the corridor beyond the Great Hall._

_Echoes bounced off of the walls as Fleur and Etienne walked, one more hurriedly than the other, toward their apartments. Counting the torches that they passed on their way Fleur clung to her wafer-thin control, dreaming of the door that would grant her release._

"_Alison insists that I need to take more care with my robes but I cannot leave fitted waistcoats aside! They complete the outfit, who ever heard of a suit without a waistcoat? Barbaric!" he stared at Fleur, wide-eyes conveying his complete bewilderment._

_Fleur just could not understand it! Of course men and the occasional woman had always been infatuated with her but once she had cut them off once or twice they backed off! Etienne had been on the receiving end of more than a fortnights' worth! What's more he continually talked about different women in her company as if to draw attention to his plethora of female companions! Really!_

"_Marie was quite right of course, brown is not my colour unless it is leather I am looking at! What do you think? Is blue my best colour?"_

_Later Fleur would point to the long day she had endured as the reason for her outburst. Etienne disagreed, observing that it was only when he had referenced colours that she had lost her temper._

"_I DO NOT CARE! I AM AT A COMPLETE LOSS AS TO WHY YOU INSIST ON THIS IDIOCY! Read my lips Etienne! I. AM. NOT. INTERESTED."_

_Her voice broke once or twice during the rant, shrilly shattering the silence that surrounded them. When Fleur had finished, hair skewed and jaw clenched, she finally realised the effect her outburst had had . . . absolutely none. Etienne stood, smirking; arms folded across his chest examining the enraged part Veela calmly._

"_My dear whatever gave you that idea?"_

_Speechless Fleur gaped at the, now, grinning man. Realising he wasn't going to get an answer anytime soon Etienne shrugged and continued in the direction of their rooms. Regaining her composure quickly Fleur caught up with Etienne outside his door._

"_But . . . you . . . girls . . .talking . . ."_

_She spluttered incoherently, failing abysmally in her attempt to explain herself. Really a lady of her stature should have done better._

"_Stop right there Fleur, let me clear up this confusion."_

_Hands behind his back Etienne paced the width of the hall speaking aloud to himself and the stunned witch. In the course of the speech he outlined his preference for the more masculine form, tied all noted women to various branches of his own family and eventually explained his infuriating persistence._

"_So you have mixed blood too?" queried a suitably chastised Fleur._

"_Come now, you are a clever witch. You recognised what I was the minute I walked in!"_

"_I recognised something, I wasn't sure what it was. I still 'ave no idea either."_

"_Well while we are having this discussion I may as well fill in the gaps. Far back in my esteemed family we seem to have crossed paths with Leanánn Sídhe . . . crossed paths and merged somewhat," Etienne grinned at his choice of words._

"_Leanánn Sídhe? Who or what is that?"_

_Fleur was not ignorant of magical creatures, she could count them among her ancestors, but she had never heard of Leanánn Sídhe before! Etienne smiled at her confusion, scratching his chin slowly he pondered how exactly to describe his magical forefathers._

"_My family is not originally from Bretagne. We arrived here in the seventeenth century, along with several other Irish lords. Our lands had been surrendered to the English after a lengthy war, with no hope of any freedom at home we came to Europe. My family stayed in France: the language wasn't too difficult and the locals were sympathetic. By then our paths had well and truly crossed with the Leanánn Sídhe. I suppose you could say they are a distant branch of the succubus family tree? Perhaps not as cruel. They were reported to inspire creativity and brilliance in their chosen mates . . . in return however madness or death is the end result unless that chosen one is able to find another to take his place?"_

_The clues began to come together for Fleur. Sídhe or fairies existed in France as well. Notoriously vivacious they all, no matter their origin, took particular interest in humans and their affairs especially when looking for lovers. That Etienne could trace his ancestry back to them was astonishing since very few of those mortals that encountered the Sídhe ever escaped their clutches, never mind lived to tell the tale._

_She had heard of families having fairy blood, they were few but they were very well known and the blood was quite diluted. The characteristics he displayed all fit: fair to look at, charming, lively and gifted speaker. Noting a look of understanding pass over her face Etienne nodded as if he heard every word she spoke to herself._

"_I suppose you are wondering how it was possible for my ancestor to escape his mistress? Well your guess is as good as mine. Family legend has it that another was used to draw her fancy before my ancestor was able to whisk his young child away. Others claim that we never escaped and have only managed to survive because the Sídhe are complete recluses due to their dwindling numbers? Who knows? All I can verify is that life has not been hard on me: men and women alike find me irresistible; there have been very few arguments I have lost and well . . ." he paused to clap his chest, "strong as an ox!"_

Fleur had apologised profusely of course. Manners dictated that she make apologies for her behaviour in the corridor; her suspicions regarding his heritage were another matter altogether. Following that misunderstanding their relationship became more open and comical. Etienne was dramatic where Fleur was composed, jovial where she was cutting and gullible to her sarcasm. Between the two of them the students were thoroughly entertained, on the rare occasion that they were together in front of the staff and school body. Most of the fun for Fleur was in passing when they met in the corridors.

"_Smile! Else we shall have to consider dementor impersonating as a valid career option."_

_The advice was called from the other end of the hall, a rapidly disappearing mop of dark hair the suspected source._

For once Fleur felt comfortable with another person that was not a member of her immediate family. Yes she had worked with, lived with and almost married magical folk but for whatever reason she was still regarded with suspicion even by others of mixed heritages: having mixed blood did not immediately result in solidarity. Sylvie was a prime example.

When Fleur had first joined the staff at Beauxbatons she had thought that Sylvie would be an obvious companion. A few years older than Fleur, she had already left Beauxbatons by the time Fleur was beginning; still she was the closest in age to the part Veela. A week went by without Fleur ever spending a satisfactory amount of time in the company of the older witch. When she did eventually end up on patrol with her the results were not what she had expected.

_This was not what she had envisioned when patrolling with Sylvie. Granted being shoved bodily up against a wall was not what anyone would foresee in any encounter with student or professor. It was the viciousness of the attack that really had caught her off guard. The wand at her throat was digging painfully under her chin: keeping her eyes up and in contact with the vibrant green of the other witch._

_Fleur breathed deeply through her nose; she refused to break the tense standoff that had exploded out of nothing. The older woman held her firmly in place, though Fleur had yet to make any kind of serious struggle. In the back of her mind she knew, should it come to that, her wandless capabilities would see her attacker disarmed and floored. Rather than panic Fleur gazed steadily into the eyes that gleamed, delighting in their owners' perceived power._

"_Ah you Veela are not that much trouble are you? No . . . for such proud. . . arrogant creatures you really are not that powerful."_

_Fifteen minutes, in close quarters so to speak, with Sylvie had opened Fleurs' eyes to her true nature. Sirens were not to be trifled with, whatever the potency of their blood. Often considered the poorer cousin of the Veela Sirens had, historically, not been as well accepted. Theirs were tales of woe without redemption. At least the Veela had a weak spot for their loves. Sirens . . . well Sirens used and then discarded theirs, love was not at the core of their being._

"_Ah cousin, I am afraid I did not recognise you until tonight! My apologies," Fleur grimaced at the increased pressure of the wandtip._

"_Cousin?" she sneered, features shadowed by torchlight, "Well I suppose. Know this cousin I will not have you sashaying around here leaving a trail of enthralled fools in your wake! I have worked hard enough to get to where I am, I will not have some upstart replace me!"_

_The words themselves were painless. Fleur was used to the suspicions of others with regard to almost everything. What angered the Veela was more implied than anything else. The presumption that all Veela rely on and abuse their attributes grated on Fleur; it was a common and ignorant misconception._

"_Hard enough? Work? Hah! Please do not insult my intelligence!" Fleur snorted before leaning closer to the older woman despite the pressure on her neck, " Tell me, cousin, how many have you sung quietly to? Have you hummed sweet melodies in hidden corners? Lulled opposition with lullabies?"_

_The desired effect was immediate. Before the Siren could unleash her spell Fleur had her wandless and flat on her back. Sitting atop her stomach Fleur grinned at the furious woman pinned underneath. Sylvie struggled violently but to no avail, bar exhausting herself. When she had calmed somewhat Fleur leaned down, smiling at the aggrieved expression on her face._

"_Dear cousin, never underestimate a Veela," tipping her head to one side, Fleur enjoyed Sylvies' disgust at the silvery hair sliding over her cheek, "we are a tricky people to put under thumb. Now that we have sorted out our differences I wish to propose a solution."_

_Fleur waited patiently for an acknowledgement of her offer; minutes later the still livid but helpless siren nodded._

"_Good. Here is what we will do . . ."_

After laying out her terms, which had been accepted grudgingly by Sylvie, Fleur released her hold on the Siren. They had parted that night with every intention of staying away from the other: Sylvie out of a sense of self-preservation, Fleur in want of a peaceful term at school. Most of the staff had surmised some sort of jealousy over Etienne, as did most of the students: those with a mediocrity of understanding, Madame Maxime for one, had an inkling of the true reasons. Fortunately that led to very little interaction between the two witches.

To Fleurs' dismay Sylvie was seated not five places from Hermione and not ignorant of the regard the young woman inspired. Frequent glances were thrown in Hermiones' direction while the minimum amount of attention was being paid to the French minister for Sport and Head Editor of _Le Monde. _Sylvie knew quality when she saw it but she seemed aggravated, even more so by her doting male companions. Hermione, to Fleurs' knowledge, had yet to recognise any of those seated beyond the Hogwarts nurse. This is what she had been contemplating when she had become distracted by manly hands.

Fleur realised that Etienne would not be so easily dismissed in his pursuit of the truth. Inquisitiveness was both a characteristic associated with his forefathers and one he himself admitted to as being a personal flaw.

"I will tell you later d'accord?"

Recognising his scope for questioning was quickly vanishing he nodded at the vexed witch and turned his attention to what had, to his mind, occupied Fleurs' thoughts.

The young witch was prettier in person; photographs really didn't do her justice. The books he had in his room on the war were more research texts than popular volumes; still they had included one or two pictures of the 'Golden Trio'. She was older, of course, but the eyes and hair were much the same. Maybe the hair was less . . . lion mane and more . . . cocker spaniel? Despite the fact she was sitting Etienne could tell she was slightly shorter than Fleur, not tiny but not tall either. Hermione was engaged in a conversation with the Headmistress of Hogwarts and Pierre Clement, the Deputy Head. Pierre had both witches hanging on his every word, well he was one of the best in his field: Transfiguration. The younger of the two was listening intently, smiling softly at his narrative: her face was less stern than it had appeared when the Hogwarts group disembarked that magnificent train. At first he had thought her a niece or daughter of the Headmistress, it was only now that he could observe her from a closer distance the differences became more apparent.

Glancing once more at his companion he rolled his eyes at her preoccupation. The rest of the staff hadn't noticed, Fleur was always distant and quiet at meals, but that wouldn't last forever. _If she is to have any chance she will have to be less obvious. Sylvie will notice if she continues to be this obvious._ Grimacing at the thought of another Veela Siren face off Etienne regarded the young witch at the center of his friends' world. _She had better be worth it Fleur._


	8. Chapter 8

**Authors Note: **Hi! Another installment, just finished. I know I said I would try to move more quickly but I don't think I have quite managed it yet. Knowing that the tournament itself spanned most of the year I would look to generalise weeks and months except for major interactions that might happen :)

_Chaosrin: _Hermione did always come across as being 'uppity' in some ways but I always thought that this stemmed from her confidence in her own abilities myself. Like when she fixed Harrys' glasses in the first book? I love stories where we see a confident witch but less confident woman - it's a great paradox :) I did purposefully write in those changes to her character, I don't want to forget that she has been through a war and on the front lines for most of it. Hopefully it won't put you off too much! Thanks for taking the time to review :)

_Jaely: _Yeah wasn't it strange how these 'champions' were lauded as the best their schools could offer and much older than Harry yet they all seemed to fail to live up to the hype? I know Fleur did in particular which is why I intend to depict her as being a strong witch due both to her heritage and intelligence. She will most definitely not be a pansy anyway :)

_ElektraTH: _Thanks for your kind words :) I am honoured to be your first review and if I can help you avoid another smelly sock I feel as if my efforts have been worth it ;) Thanks!

_EmBeRyTHEgreat, Life-is-rolling-keep-on-going, GISA103: _thanks for sticking with me :)

_Guests: _Thank you for taking the time to let me know what you thought :)

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Hermione waited patiently. They weren't paying attention; too engrossed in their surroundings and peers to realise they were being addressed. _How is it that when a professor stood up in front of me my focus was always on them?_ Bemoaning the lack of decorum and respect wasn't going to do her any good. Allowing them five minutes more gawking wouldn't do any harm she reasoned. If anything it did allow her a little more time to observe the competition. Crossing her arms Hermione patiently assessed the few remaining clusters of students and staff.

Excited French mutterings littered the air accompanied by an odd shy wave toward some of the older Hogwarts students as rivers of blue streamed past. Thankfully her students were polite and nodded but kept with their groups for the most part. _Fingers crossed that propriety will last the duration of our visit . . .I doubt it somehow. _Memories of slack-jawed, drooling males sprang to mind. Not to mention her own two friends being quite enamoured of the French during their turn at Hogwarts . . . _though Harry really did do better than most. _The Durmstrang students stood on the opposite side of the hall, listening attentively to their mentor. Whatever opinions he was conveying they certainly weren't warm, his expression alone suggested none of the casual affection many of the Hogwarts staff utilised when dealing with their students. Petr Vetrov towered over the surrounding group, sharp featured and stern the man did not radiate any kind of welcome. Cool, hawk-like eyes surveyed the Durmstrang company as he spoke; his voice no louder than the din surrounding his students, Hermione imagined it was expected that they would hear and obey. As if reading her mind they exited the hall with military precision leaving just Hermione and her students with the remnants of the Head table.

Deciding it was high time they made their way back Hermione ran through a quick count and roll call. The students lined up to leave albeit with much scuffling and knocking into one another. Despite the long day they displayed no signs of exhaustion, tonight was not going to be a quiet one. For the whole of the journey herself, Poppy and Minerva had taken to patrolling to ensure that Hogwarts' rules were adhered to, on school grounds or not. So far there had been little disruption with the students generally sleeping soundly: exceptions were few and far between and even at that they usually were in search of a late night glass of water or some such inconsequential thing. Scanning the sea of faces fixed on her own Hermione knew right away that many would while away an hour or two past curfew discussing tonights' events. Smiling resignedly she assumed what she hoped was a firm, no-nonsense stance before addressing the students.

"When we return to the train everyone is to get changed and ready for bed. There will be a short meeting in the Common Room so dress warm and be there as quickly as possible . . ."

A quick tap on the shoulder interrupting her flow alerted Hermione to Poppys' presence at her side. Strangely enough the nurse turned so that her mouth conveyed its message directly into Hermiones' ear only and not to the eagle-eyed teens in front.

"Hermione I think there is someone waiting to speak with you. I'll take the kids down and have them ready for the meeting!" she whispered, eyes twinkling behind her spectacles. "Twenty minutes alright?"

Peering over Poppys' head Hermione immediately realised who she was referring to. _Well better get it over and done with._ Nodding thankfully Hermione gave a few final instructions and watched Poppy lead the students out of the Great Hall. Never before had she been so reluctant to let a student group go, remarkable really.

Taking a deep breath she steeled her nerves and plastered, what she hoped was, a warm smile on her face. Slowly she made her way towards the person she had hoped to avoid until tomorrow.

"Hello Fleur, comment ça va?"

_Why did I ask that? She's obviously very well._ Fleur appeared as youthful as when she had competed in the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts, the sole difference being an air of maturity. Blonde, almost silver, hair was braided to keep it out of her way though strands escaped here and there. Warm blue eyes darted about as if taking in all of Hermiones' face piece by piece. Unexpectedly Hermione found herself wrapped in a hug that was only broken to complete French tradition: a kiss on either cheek. Gathering her wits as best she could Hermione tried to focus on Fleurs' mouth and what was coming out of it, in and of itself a difficult task at best.

"'Ermione! I am well! It is good to see you, 'ow was your trip?"

Still blushing slightly at the exuberant welcome Hermione stumbled over her words, trying to string a sentence or two together.

"As well as can be expected. At least we didn't have to deal with any bad weather," Hermione shrugged. Standing awkwardly in front of the French witch she scrambled mentally for something more to add before blurting, "Fleur you look great, are you enjoying being home?" and clamping her mouth shut.

It was true; the French witch seemed more alive, brighter. Gone were the bags under her eyes and the smile that had always seemed tinged with sadness. The woman in front of Hermione now was not the Fleur she remembered, rather the confident woman she had always expected.

"Oui, oui. I do love 'ome but believe it or not I do miss England!" Hermiones' expression must of conveyed her surprise as Fleur hastened to explain, "We 'ave less tea 'ere and more coffee, tea grew on me while I was in London," while smiling companionably at her own confession.

Hermione was, for a moment, lost for words. _Compliments regarding England? What has gotten into her?_ Fleur had never seemed so . . . open or welcoming. Whatever had inspired the change she wasn't going to pry too deep. Smiling tightly Hermione really wasn't thinking when she replied.

"Well then you will have to come to the train at some stage. We have plenty and are more than willing to share."

Even as she uttered the invitation Hermione could hear the arguments spewing from the more rational side of her brain. _What are you doing? You don't have time for tea!_ Her internal debate was mercifully silenced before it hit its full stride.

"I would love to! It is a . . ." Fleur raised a hand, frustrated with her momentary lapse, grasping for the correct word before surrendering, "magnifique train 'ermione! 'ow did you do it?"

_She accepted? Okay now I know for sure something's up._ The way Fleur was studying her made Hermione want to turn heel and flee. It was intrusive . . . well more perceptive perhaps than what she was used to and as such unsettling.

Fleur had always seemed more attuned to people and their emotions, a talent which was utilised to the full during an infamous game of poker at the Burrow. According to Ron after much cajoling the solitary witch was dragged to the table to 'engage' with the family. When all was said and done Fleur was several galleons wealthier while the Weasley boys were poorer but wiser.

"Come for tea and I will explain all," Hermione pointed distractedly over her shoulder, "I have to go now, the students will be waiting but I will see you tomorrow at some stage?"

Inwardly grimacing at the clumsiness of her escape Hermione didn't notice the flash of disappointment in Fleurs' eyes. If she had not been so preoccupied with not tripping over her own two feet it would have surely given her pause.

"Of course! I will not keep you any longer!" murmured Fleur, hands clasped demurely as she watched Hermione back away towards the doors. "Bon nuit 'ermione!"

Hermione dipped her head quickly before spinning and marching in the direction of the entrance. She could feel Fleurs' eyes following her progress right up until she had passed through the large archway itself. Once through and out of sight Hermione sighed, _that has to be one of the most awkward meetings ever! _Rubbing the back of her neck Hermione valiantly tried to release the tension that held her shoulders in an iron grip.

Torch-lit windows passed by in a blur of colour, no longer clearly visible in the dark evening. Abruptly Hermione groaned aloud throwing her head back at her idiocy; the sole reason for any conversation with Fleur and she hadn't completed it. _Bill, I never mentioned Bill. _Tomorrow would have to suffice for that uncomfortable tidbit. Not that Fleur had given any indication of unease in her presence but the subject of her ex-boyfriend and the associated memories might just thrown the blonde off her current amiable course. If there was anything Hermione did not need it was more stress and problems on top of her already busting workload.

Passing from the main corridors to the courtyard Hermione mentally added a request for tea and snacks to be readily available to her room. Her lone shadow glided silently between the pillars of the main gates and proceeded toward the warm light spilling from the Hogwarts Express. A silent figure that passed unnoticed across the Beauxbatons grounds.

* * *

Hermione blinked, light was pouring in underneath the blind illuminating her room. The slight pink hue on the walls suggested it was early yet. Lifting her gaze to the clock on the opposite wall she groaned audibly into her pillow at the time. Rolling over she wished for but a few minutes more rest. Ten minutes later it was obvious that was not to be.

The carpet was soft underfoot as she padded to her adjoining bathroom. Splashing her face with cold water shook whatever cobwebs she might have still been harbouring. Cloudy hazel eyes peered into the mirror, searching for signs of a restless sleep. Satisfied she speedily brushed her teeth, trying to recall what she had been dreaming of. Not much later she found herself in front of her wardrobe debating the benefits of casual wear with that of robes. Deciding that since no official events were scheduled today it was more practical to dress comfortably. Throwing on jeans, a top and blazer she hesitated momentarily before grabbing one of her gowns. _I'm not going to alter my teaching attire for appearances sake! _Eyeing herself in the mirror she raised her chin defiantly, no one, not even a Veela, was going to the cause of any adjustments.

The corridors were understandably empty. Half six was not the optimum wakening time for most. No matter her environment it was an ingrained habit, one Hermione had tried to break but to no avail. Sitting in the dining cart with a warming bowl of porridge, honey and handful of muesli Hermione found herself thankful for the quiet solitude she found herself in. Silence was golden and when living in such close quarters with twenty teenagers it was most definitely a luxury to be availed of at every opportunity.

Today had been billed as an orientation day for the students and their accompanying chaperones. Apparently the different delegations would be shown round the grounds and buildings so that when they joined in activities next week there would be less confusion.

Last night she had run through the schedule for the following day during a quick ten-minute meeting. True to her word Poppy had the students ready and waiting when Hermione had finally reached the Hogwarts Express. Minerva had followed soon thereafter, adding a few choice words about proper behaviour and manners before the students had been dismissed. The three women had enjoyed a cup of tea in the empty cart; Hermione was pleasantly surprised at what Poppy had learned during the feast. Apparently several of the French ministerial staff had, rather liberally to Hermiones' mind, spoken about the upcoming tournament amongst themselves. Though not fluent Poppy had been able to garner a few nuggets of information: the transportation of water to the school grounds and modification of the Quidditch pitch being the most interesting.

Leaving those thoughts to one side she mentally ran through the days' events, wondering when there would be time to entertain Fleur. While her students were being guided to and from different wings Hermione would, with the Headmistress and Poppy, attend a staff meeting. _Hopefully maps and timetables will be provided. I have to broach the topic of a spare classroom as well . . . and gingerly._ Minerva had impressed upon Hermione the importance of avoiding insult at all cost. Madame Maxime was not to be trifled with. _How do you suggest that your students will be receiving extra tuition without casting doubt on the education they are availing of?_ Language was one possible excuse, except most if not all the staff at the French institute had a grasp of English and if they didn't their students most likely would. _Difficult students?_ Another option only Hermione was well aware that the Hogwarts delegation were not compromised of rowdy, trying students. _Gaps in the curriculum?_ International wizarding education was very closely tied when it came to subject matter, with the one exception being History of Magic. One by one her carefully crafted explanations were summarily dismissed. Hermione sighed, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose calmingly. _I will just have to go with a combination of them all._

An audible click signalled the arrival of another. Minerva McGonagall swept into the carriage, impeccably dressed in her traditional emerald and black robes. Greeting the headmistress distractedly Hermione eyed the distant chateaux, its walls gleaming in the early morning light.

"Tea?"

The sudden inquiry pulled Hermione from her thoughts.

"Hmmm?"

"Tea, dear?" Minerva imitated sipping a cup of tea; "I find it most helpful when ruminating upon problems that need my attention."

Hermione smiled, "Actually that would be lovely."

Minerva smiled before calling "Binky!"

A diminutive, even by their standards, House Elf appeared at the top of their shared table. Dressed plainly in an unadorned tunic the elf peered at the two witches knowingly, her large eyes wise to the ways of those she had served for generations.

"Headmistress. What can Binky get you's?"

"A pot of tea for two, dear."

"Rights away."

Snapping her fingers authoritatively Binky vanished leaving the two women alone once more. McGonagall placed her recognisable hat to one side before fixing Hermione with a shrewd gaze.

"The idea of the meeting today is bothering you?"

How her former professor was able to read those about her so well Hermione could never be sure. There were only three people she would have equated that level of observation with: Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Remus Lupin. Smiling sadly at the thought of her former professor and friend Hermione sat back in her chair.

"Am I that obvious?" she murmured, fingering a button on her blazer distractedly.

"Come now, Hermione. What else could it be? The students have yet to wreak havoc and last night when I informed you of the meeting you were a little flustered dear," Minervas' small smile let Hermione know she was truly amused at the idea, "Not that difficult to ascertain I assure you."

A faint pop interrupted their conversation. Binky had returned with tea and settings for two that appeared on the table perfectly laid out.

"Thank you Binky."

"Is that alls Headmistress?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Binky?" Hermione interrupted before the elf had the chance to disappear once more.

"Yes Professor Granger?"

Grinning invitingly Hermione quickly inquired as to the comfort of the House Elves that had travelled with the Hogwarts Express. Binky, well used to the newest professors' interest in their welfare, didn't react badly to the query but took it in her stride.

"Alls happy miss. The other elves in the big house is very nice to us. We have all we need miss."

"Very good, thank you Binky."

Nodding to the two women Binky returned to her chores. As head House Elf her responsibility was tenfold, with regards to the smooth running of the schedule that dictated the lives of the small staff. Hermione had the utmost respect for Binky, it seemed that nothing could upset the confident and authoritative Elf. She still found the treatment of House Elves contemptible, however she had come to realise that most were treated fairly and the majority were not interested in changing their situations.

"I do believe Binky is getting used to your probing regarding the House Elves."

" Well, when you face it every day I'm sure it has become a ritual when meeting with me."

Laughing at the resignation displayed by the younger woman Minerva seemed to Hermione years younger.

"Hundreds of years of custom will not be broken in a couple of months Hermione!" she replied, eyes twinkling at the notion, "It's a miracle that you managed to convince them to wear those tunics. That Binky herself acquiesced is in of itself a marvel. Merlins' beard but you are determined."

Hermione looked nonplussed at the suggestion.

"Minerva when have I ever not been determined?"

"Quite right, quite right," the Headmistress replied, pouring a cup of tea for both parties, "Now what were we discussing . . . ah yes, the meeting?"

_I should have known that wouldn't be dropped._

"It's nothing really," Hermione began to excuse her behaviour before she caught the disbelieving look directed at her, " . . . okay well how am I to broach the topic of needing a classroom?"

"That is a thorny issue but not one that should occupy your thoughts too much. Like Hogwarts I'm sure an extra room is not impossible to come by," Minerva stated calmly, picking up her cup daintily, "and as for an excuse as to why the students will have extra lessons, why not claim promises made to fellow professors at Hogwarts?"

Sipping her tea Minerva McGonagall smiled inwardly at the visible relief on her protégé. _Why didn't I think of that? Brilliant._ Hermione grinned at her companion from between the palms of her hands. _Five minutes and she has it sorted. I knew there was a reason the school ran so well._

"I have to admit that is a load off of my mind, thank you Minerva."

"Not at all dear," she waved her free hand back and forth dismissively, " years of similar situations has left me with, how can I put it?"

"A store of excuses?" Hermione provided helpfully.

Minerva snapped her fingers, "That's it exactly, a veritable plethora of general excuses for every situation."

The two women continued to chat and were joined by Poppy shortly after. Slowly the dining cart filled with students, some more lucid than others. Hermione smiled softly at the tousled heads, fidgeting hands and excited babble that provided a soothingly familiar backdrop to breakfast. The sun was now well up indicating that they would have to be making moves to attend their orientation. Informing her companions of her observations they hastily agreed and between the three of them the students were quickly rounded up and escorted out into the morning air.

* * *

Fleur had never felt so nervous. Yes she had spoken to her yesterday but today there would be more opportunity today to talk and discover what she had missed in the intervening years from her last meeting with Hermione. Last night she had barely slept though it wasn't telling, being part Veela did have its merits.

Her nervous strides stuttered briefly at the sight of Sylvie entering the Great Hall. She would have to keep her head if Hermione was going to avoid the full assault of that particular professor. Whatever about the rest of the visiting staff Hermione was hers and no one else would have the opportunity to get close to her without a little challenge. Sylvie would have to be dealt with delicately. Too obvious and it would only fuel any designs she might have on Hermione, too little and Hermione might be left to face the full brunt of Sylvies' song. Clenching her hands at the thought Fleur resumed her trek to the Hall, masking her feelings as she swept through the open doors.

The students were finished their breakfasts and had been joined by both of the visiting parties and their corresponding staff. Fleur spied Hermione sitting alongside her Headmistress while taking her seat next to Etienne. Ignoring his glib remarks about fashionable entrances and enamoured students Fleur tried to gauge the mood of her obsession. Her eyes trailed from the loose bun of curls to the smart blazer and unusual robe, she had never seen one of this style. Its' black folds hung about her, complementing rather than hiding her figure. It was not a traditional wizarding robe; its shorter sleeves and looped fabric were not features of that cut. Still it suited Hermione, understated but fit for purpose. Speaking of whom, her eyes were trained on the students assembled: roaming the hall steadily without stopping on one particular place.

Fleur hissed sharply, a sharp dig into her side the cause of her discomfort.

"Quoi?"

Etienne merely grinned, eyes glinting merrily.

"That is enough staring, the poor girl will wilt under your 'eated gaze mon amie!"

Fleur scowled, her gaze was not heated. Not really.


	9. Chapter 9

**Authors' Note: **Well here we go - a little more of Sylvie, Fleur, Hermione :) Also I've tried to switch perspective a little more to make the plot somewhat more engaging? Hopefully that worked! lol

_ThatGrlUKnow, GISA103, wkgreen, Chris, Life-is-rolling-keep-on-going, TheRenoApocalypse: _Folks thanks for your kind words and continued interest! Its really heartening to hear that you are enjoying the story and I love reading your responses :)

_Jaely: _I know, it does seem like Fleur has a mountain to climb before getting close to Hermione but I feel that's probably as true to what would happen if these ladies were canon :) I don't think I will go into why Fleur performed badly- though maybe something might be mentioned later in general conversation without going too deep? I will in future chapters look to explain the origins and development of Fleurs feelings. So Veela culture will most definitely feature :) As for Shell cottage I am taking that as having happened but Bill and Fleurs marriage did not. I know that Shell cottage was a wedding gift but I don't want to leave out that event because it's where I think that any attraction or connection really cemented between Hermione and Fleur. Hermione did mention it during her talk with Bill but I didn't want to jump into that too much. As for questions thanks soo much for taking an interest and no probs! They do help me think through my own plot! ha ha

_Ladyfun:_ I know it's quite awkward :) On Hermiones' side I would think it stems more from their history - shell cottage, the Triwizard tournament and the impressions she has of Fleur from those events. On Fleurs' part it's more to do with not frightening Hermione or pushing too much. A fear of messing up I suppose. I didn't plan on there being a past tension between the two, it's more to do with reacquainting themselves with one another and the fact that they both have just come through a war. Thanks for taking the time to review!

Lads I hope I am answering these questions? If not tell me so! Thanks again for the support!

* * *

After the students had been dispatched in their orientation groups, led by chosen Beauxbaton representatives, the adults had immediately begun their meeting. For the first half hour Madame Maxime outlined the general rules and regulations concerning the everyday running of the school. Much of it was similar to Hogwarts and Hermione didn't foresee any kind of trouble involving her students and their ability to adjust to their new surroundings. Vetrov had queried a few rules such as use of magic in corridors and the like but apart from that there were few other inquiries. Realising her ability to follow the soft, hushed questions and replies was waning Hermione turned her attention to the map provided.

The enchanted 3-D visual guide was cleverly conceived; upon opening the device the user had to merely tap the parchment to be provided with a comprehensive map of each school floor and from there choose their required area for viewing. Turning it this way and that she ran her fingers along the creases in the parchment, magic hummed quietly beneath her fingertips creating an odd tingling feeling. It was novel to study a map that did not include any moving elements. Thankfully rogue staircases were not on the list of things to watch out for but there had been vague allusions to magical creatures that inhabited the surrounding valley. The greenhouses, much like Hogwarts, were home to various plants boasting innumerable perils. Similarly there were paddocks beyond the plant houses that were for the use of, and maintained by, the Care of Magical Creatures Department, and therefore not suitable for any incursion without supervision. Thus far in her examination Hermione had identified four rooms that seemed to be unoccupied and free for use. Now all that remained was to ask. Satisfied she deactivated the map and fixed her gaze once more toward the top of the table.

Madame Maxime was chairing the meeting along with her Deputy Head, a fascinating man who had engaged both herself and Minerva on the topic of Transfiguration for quite a while the previous evening. The rest of the Beauxbatons staff lined either side of the table, followed by the visiting professors. Hermione had not seen Fleur arrive earlier but now she caught a glimpse of the French witch. She was seated beside a handsome man; tall with dark hair he was quite attractive. His head was bent slightly, toward Fleur who seemed to be listening to whatever he was muttering. Nodding at whatever was said Fleur looked up briefly and caught Hermiones' gaze. Embarrassed at being caught Hermione nodded before focusing once more on the imposing French Headmistress. Another of the French staff was answering a question regarding timetabling, a dark-haired woman she had not noticed before. _She's confident if nothing else_. Succinct and to the point the striking professor answered questions assertively, though Hermione thought she detected a shadow of disdain behind her words. Her body language indicated the utmost respect . . . still there was something in the tone of her replies that set Hermione on edge. That and the way she was looking at the person who had posed the question. The war had, if anything, taught her to trust her instincts . . . something that did not come naturally.

A prolonged silence provided Hermione with an opportunity to put forward her question (that and the insistent elbow at her side). Conscious of the looks McGonagall was throwing in her direction Hermione cleared her throat and leaned forward slightly so that Madame Maxime knew who was going to speak.

"Pardon me Headmistress I just have a question regarding the use of magic on school grounds?" Hermione linked her fingers, trying her utmost to seem supplicant, "I know you mentioned between classes and in corridors it is prohibited but under the supervision of staff would it be permitted on our train?"

Madame Maxime considered the proposal briefly.

"I do not see 'ow it would be a problem Mademoiselle. That is as long as there is adequate supervision and the magic is contained to your train. 'eaven forbid should were it let loose on the open grounds of our school! Do you foresee such an occurrence?" the woman replied, inferring further explanation would be required.

"Of course, of course. It would be confined to one cart specifically and it would be impressed on the students that this is the only area in which it may be utilised. Should anyone flout this direction they would be subject to whatever punishment you deem fit."

The older woman tilted her head during Hermiones' response, a finger rubbing her lower lip absentmindedly. _She doesn't look too displeased, now for the real fun. _Grimacing internally at her private monologue Hermione licked her dry lips and caught the hostess' attention once more_._

"Not that I want to trespass on your kindness any more than I have but I wonder would it be possible for me to use a spare room somewhere during the week?"

Hermione focused on not blinking. Somehow blinking had always seemed untrustworthy to her. Dark, shrewd eyes peered at her over the length of the table. She heard a muffled cough to one side, _Minerva probably. If I didn't know any better she's enjoying this torture._

"For what purpose Professor Granger?"

The stern response was not what she had been hoping for. The focus of the whole table on her was another. Swallowing, Hermione nodded before answering.

"When I agreed to chaperone our students on this trip it was made clear by my fellow staff that I would be responsible for the continued education of their students. I understand that the students will receive the best of attention here but, for my own sake, I wish to quiz the students on their various subjects so that I can report back to my peers honestly."

"I fail to see why this requires a room within our walls."

"Ah Madame, I myself can vouch as to the nature of Ms. Grangers' request," Minerva spoke calmly, "My staff approached me with the same suggestion and I agreed that Professor Granger would support them at Hogwarts as well as at Beauxbatons."

The flat reply had shaken Hermiones' already unsteady confidence; still McGonagalls' timely addition had bought her a few spare moments to compose herself. Clenching her fingers Hermione forced her mouth to smile and continued with as much self-assurance as she could muster.

"The train itself is perfectly fine for theoretical assessments but for more demanding practical demonstrations I think a more suitable space would be required," Hermione stated, "I don't want to even contemplate the repercussions should a spell go awry in a train carriage, the cramped space alone would increase the danger of such an event immensely."

The silence following her reply seemed to stretch on for hours. She dared not look directly into the authoritative Headmistress' eyes lest her nervousness was to be revealed and case dismissed. After a brief consultation with her deputy Madame Maxime pursed her lips, looking rather nonchalant but suspicious at the same time.

"My deputy and I agree to this strange request," studying Hermione intently Madame Maxime had never been so intimidating, "I know of your famed regard for education and for that I will grant your request. Be warned Mademoiselle should anything go awry within these walls or I 'ear of any pro'ibited preparation of students you and the rest of your group shall be removed."

Hermione breathed deeply, relieved that she had the approval for her classroom.

"I assure you that no preparation is in question, merely the honest report of our students progression to my fellow professors at home. Merci Madame for your consideration and help."

The tension in the room immediately dissipated following Hermiones' request and the meeting continued on as if there had been no odd demand at all. McGonagall winked slyly at Hermione, muttering a quiet 'well done dear' out of the corner of her mouth. She would have replied if her mouth hadn't felt like the Sahara Desert.

* * *

Fleurs' attention was steadily deteriorating; it was difficult to keep her mind on school rules when Hermione was not ten spaces from her. The meeting was coming to a close and now the various visitors had been invited to explore the grounds to familiarise themselves with the castle. Eyeing Etienne, who had been most meddlesome during the meeting, Fleur stood with every intention of offering herself as a guide to Hermione. Gathering her robes to her Fleur ignored his latest jibe '_such rushing! Not at all graceful. Remember Fleur less haste more speed!' _and turned to find Hermione.

"Fleur, come 'ere."

The abrupt summons was not to be ignored; Madame Maxime was not to be ignored. Sighing audibly Fleur abandoned her hope and walked toward her headmistress who had called distractedly for her as she entertained the Durmstrang representative. Reaching her side Fleur smiled politely at the grave man who stood by her headmistress stiff and aloof. N_ot at all friendly or enamoured_ she mused silently.

"Ah Fleur! This is Monsieur Vetrov, 'e is the 'eadmaster of Durmstrang. 'e was just inquiring about the sport facilities. Would you mind showing our guest to the Quidditch pitch please?"

Fleur knew that this was not a request. Madame Maxime had a bad habit of utilising Fleur as an icebreaker with awkward visitors be they disgruntled parents or overly enthusiastic ministry officials. Biting her cheek at the inconvenience of it all she nodded graciously before welcoming the Durmstrang Head to the school. As they moved towards the doors of the Hall she could not help but notice Sylvie eyeing the one person Fleur had hoped to spend some time with. Panicking she gestured, wide-eyed at Etienne whose discussion with the Hogwarts nurse was momentarily paused. His quick glance at what she had indicated and nod calmed Fleurs' nerves somewhat as she was forced to turn and engage the dour man at her side in conversation.

* * *

Hermione was deciding where to go first when a gentle tap on her shoulder interrupted her musings. Fully expecting Fleur to be the one responsible Hermione didn't bother to look up before speaking aloud.

"Fleur what might be the best . . ."

Instead of being met with blonde hair and blue eyes Hermiones' thoughts jarred at the unexpected vibrant green she was faced with. Apologies tumbled from her lips even as she surreptitiously searched for Fleur.

"Please, no offence taken. My name is Sylvie Bovet, I noticed that you were wondering about spare classrooms," at Hermiones' nod the witch smiled affably, "I would love to show you some of them."

Seeing no way of extraditing herself from the situation Hermione agreed hesitantly. Walking toward the doors of the hall she motioned to Minerva that she was going to check out the possibilities she had highlighted on the map. The Headmistress herself appeared to be unable to disengage from a conversation involving three ministry officials. _At least I'm not the only one stuck with company!_

As they strolled past the various groups that had formed between the meeting table and door Hermione spotted Poppy talking with Fleurs' mysterious companion. The older witch looked quite smitten with the man who, in fairness, was grinning charmingly. Catching Hermiones' eye he winked cheekily, Hermione blushed and focused instead on the woman at her side who was questioning her preferences for the classroom she required. Pulling the map out of her gown she quickly unfolded and activated it.

"A room that could hold twenty students with little or no furniture would be ideal," muttered Hermione, tracing the different corridors with her hand.

Leaning forward Sylvie casually brushed Hermiones' hand aside, pointing at a room on the furthest side of the map. Hermiones' breath hitched slightly at the intrusion, startled by the sudden closeness of the other witch.

"Might I suggest this one? It is a good size, empty of clutter and not too far from the Hall. It would be easily accessible for the students and not too difficult to remember?"

Eyebrow quirked Sylvies' face was not five inches from Hermiones. _Really these French are ridiculously cavalier about personal space. _Taking a step back Hermione looked closely at the chosen room and had to admit her oversight.

"Okay, that's fine. Let's check it out first," she agreed, folding her map hastily and springing toward the open corridor.

Sylvie smirked at the younger womans' reaction. _This is going to be easier than I thought_. Striding after the flustered witch she didn't notice Etienne monitoring her actions, an uneasy frown on his face.

* * *

"Not bad," Hermione turned in the center of the room, " No furniture, plenty of light," she wandered toward the blackboard covering the length of the top wall, "It's perfect."

Smiling Hermione nodded gratefully at Sylvie who still stood in the doorway of the room. Admittedly she hadn't known how to talk to the potions professor at first, she had seemed very poised and distant. The further they had walked however Hermiones' natural curiosity about her surroundings and Sylvies' informative answers had developed into full-scale conversation to the point where Hermione now felt quite at ease.

"I am glad you like it," Sylvie moved into the room slowly, "It is one of my favourite rooms in fact."

"Oh, I hope we aren't imposing! Please I'm sure there are plenty of rooms we could use," protested Hermione, a little embarrassed at her previous appraisal.

"Non, non. I am too busy to use it these days," Sylvie smiled, "I insist."

"Well, in that case merci beaucoup! For me its strange to consider potions class being held anywhere other than in dungeons . . . our own professor was quite fond of them."

The French witch inclined her head slightly, looking rather puzzled.

"Your French is impeccable 'ermione, 'ow is that?"

Laughing at the praise unduly given Hermione shook her head, smiling widely.

"You are too kind, my French is basic and passable at best. My parents did want to give me every opportunity in life so we often holidayed in France and my mother encouraged me to speak with the locals," she smiled regretfully, "I'm afraid I've lost a lot of what I once was able to say."

"Non, I 'eard you when you first arrived," Sylvie nudged Hermione playfully, "I will 'ave to watch what I say around you no?"

Hermione couldn't understand what was happening. Sylvie was close but she wasn't moving; it felt as if her feet were stuck to the floor. Ripping her gaze from the vibrant green that was so near Hermione blinked confusedly. Staring at her boots she tried to steady herself despite their fading in and out of focus. Feeling weak and rather dizzy she barely noticed a hand gripping her at the elbow.

"There you are!"

The loud call jolted Hermione from her stupor; thoughts came rushing back like sound to ears after a pair of mufflers are suddenly removed. It felt like a block or dam had been broken; now whatever had been held back flooded to the fore of her mind. _What happened there?_ she wondered, rubbing her forehead. It was disorientating at first but Hermione quickly found her balance and focus. Desperately determined to stay upright she surveyed the scene before her.

Sylvie stood at arms length, scowling at the door. There stood Fleurs' dinner companion, grinning brightly at the two witches. Despite being clad in stiff dress robes his arms were folded across his chest in a relaxed manner. Paying no heed to his disgruntled peer he kept his gaze on Hermione. Surprisingly she didn't feel flustered or embarrassed, instead she almost felt like laughing. An absurd notion but one that was hard to dispel.

"Sylvie, Madame Maxime 'as been calling for you," he pushed himself off of the door jamb effortlessly, "Something about class placements for our visitors?"

Hermione tried not to laugh at his comical confused expression, it reminded her of Harry when she had tried to explain the rules of Muggle chess to him. Sylvie on the other hand was none too pleased, an unpleasant frown on her face.

"Very well Etienne," turning to Hermione she smiled, "I will see you again non?" and leaned forward to place two kisses on either cheek before sweeping past the latest visitor to the classroom.

Aware of the fact that she was now alone with a veritable stranger Hermione smiled at _Etienne?_ And moved to shake his hand.

"Hello, my name is Hermione Granger, pleasure to meet you."

Shaking her hand enthusiastically Etienne reminded Hermione of the Weasley twins all rolled into one. The laughing eyes and warmth he exuded made her feel at home . . . and as though she should watch her back for any unexpected tricks or jokes.

"'Ermione, I 'ave 'eard soo much about you!" he exclaimed before dropping her hand, "Come walk with me, there is so much to see!"

Gesturing with one arm as he walked Etienne threw the other about her shoulder and pulled a confused but charmed Hermione from the empty room.

* * *

"Fleur! Nice to see you."

Groaning at yet another intrusion on her search Fleur smiled at the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Minerva had always been welcoming, something that couldn't be said of many she had encountered in England. The stern witch had always included her at meetings of the Order of the Phoenix: asking for her opinion, discussing the developing situation among the magical community in France and sharing a cup of tea with her when others were determined to ignore her completely.

"Minerva, 'ow are you? You look as elegant as ever," embracing the older witch Fleur paused to admire her emerald robes, "Where do you 'ave these made?"

Chuckling at the compliment McGonagall patted her hand, "A family secret dear. One that I must keep, perhaps at some stage I will let you in on it."

Linking Fleur the visiting headmistress guided them towards the table that had been used earlier. Fleur had finally gotten rid of Vetrov after spending a half an hour with the silent man. Determined to complete her task as quickly as possible she had almost jogged to the Quidditch pitch and back. Vetrov hadn't commented on her speed, as if he would, but merely kept apace before surveying the pitch and retiring to the Durmstrang ship.

"Why the long face? I would have thought my company more pleasant than Petyr Vetrov!"

Fleur gave her full attention to the woman seated beside her.

"Forgive me Minerva, my thoughts were elsewhere! Indeed, not that I don't enjoy your company, but a centaur would make better company than Vetrov."

Minerva smirked at the younger womans' reply. Pouring two cups of tea, that had appeared while Fleur had been reminiscing, she set the pot aside.

"My dear, that man, dare I say it, makes Severus' company seem rather engaging," taking a sip of tea, Minerva leaned forward, "I don't wish to pry but it has been a few years since you disappeared on me quite suddenly."

Fleur felt rather ashamed sitting in front of the witch who had been so kind. After dealing with Bill, the war and her growing feelings for a young, innocent witch she hadn't known where to turn. Rather than face the Weasleys or others she had befriended Fleur had returned to what she knew best.

"After Bill and I broke things off I 'ad no time to think! My lease was almost up and I 'ad to make a 'asty decision," reaching out she grasped Minervas' hand, "I should 'ave contacted you but I wasn't thinking at the time."

Minerva squeezed Fleurs' hand before reaching for a biscuit.

"Fleur, I mean no reproach. I was sorry to hear you and William did not work out, can't say I was surprised though."

Fleur was taken aback, as far as she was aware everyone had thought that she and Bill were a certainty. Well that had been the impression she had been given anyway.

"You must 'ave been the only one. If I 'eard one more rumour about why we ended it I was going to scream. If I remember correctly I was usually the cause . . . cruel Veela nature and inability to deal with scars," Fleur replied wryly.

Minerva rolled her eyes in an uncharacteristic display of impatience.

"My dear if I had a pound for every time someone had _discovered_ the true nature behind my unattached status I would be in the highlands relaxing rather than running Hogwarts!"

"As if you don't spend most of your time there anyway Headmistress," interjected Poppy, pulling a chair alongside the pair of witches.

_Will I ever find the one British witch I am looking for?_ mused Fleur sardonically.

Poppy had taken care of Fleur during the Triwizard tournament and treated her after subsequent missions for the order. Though she had never taken to Fleur quite so well as Minerva she had never been anything but kind. Her brusque manner didn't bother the French woman; instead it reminded her of her grandmère.

"I resent that accusation Poppy, who here has a house on the coast in Cornwall?"

"At least I get some sun. The Highlands, Minerva, really?" the mediwitch peered at her headmistress over her glasses.

"Sun isn't everything, Hermione agrees. I know we both have hosted her but where does she go most often?" Minerva brushed crumbs from her lap, before settling back and smiling rather smugly at her point.

"Yes, yes but I think that has more to do with your ancestral library than the surrounding countryside!" Poppy huffed.

The mention of Hermiones' name drew Fleur back to the conversation taking place. The two witches continued to debate the merits of their respective holiday destinations; both adamant that theirs was the best. Deciding that the conversation might provide some insight Fleur interrupted the warring witches.

"'Ermione 'olidays with you Minerva?"

"Yes, dear. Well she likes the peace and quiet. I leave her alone most of the time but we do go on walks and share meals," Minerva tapped her chin, holding her teacup to one side, " I believe the last time she stayed was the summer just past? For a month perhaps."

"That's right! I know because she visited me afterwards in August and mentioned that she had stayed with you. I think she was in Australia before that," agreed Poppy, sipping her own tea thoughtfully.

"Australia?"

Fleurs' question gave birth to an uncomfortable silence. The Hogwarts' witches glanced at one another before answering.

"Fleur you remember Hermione's parents had to be hidden?" at the French witchs' nod Minerva continued, "That a powerful obliviate was cast? Well, when Hermione went to fetch her parents after the war they decided to stay."

"Mind you that was after the obliviate was lifted!" added Poppy, "Something to do with enjoying the weather?"

Minerva nodded, pursed lips were the only indication that she hadn't agreed with the Grangers' decision. The two witches looked conflicted about whether they should continue but after fixing Fleur with a scrutinising gaze Minerva finished the story.

"I don't think Hermione minds that they decided to stay but the girl has no other family. I believe her mother had a sister but they weren't close so she is, for the most part, alone."

"Hmphh the Weasleys weren't much addition. Except for Ginevra I don't think Molly, Arthur or the boys really stepped into the breach. Thankfully that Lovegood girl has Ronalds' ear or Hermione wouldn't have his company as often," Poppy fixed her robes stiffly, "She deserves more than a hello at the holidays!"

The matron looked at Fleur defiantly as if daring her to disagree. Not that she would take on Poppy lightly; the woman was formidable when she wanted to be.

"Hush Poppy! You and I both know that but it's not our place to judge. Hermione seems quite happy to be outside the Weasley maelstrom," Minerva whispered, "Can't say I blame her," she finished aloud, winking at Fleur.

Fleur was surprised at the revelations. Bills' last letter had mentioned that he and the Weasleys had been present to see Hermione off. Perhaps the two witches were exaggerating slightly? Then again Bill wasn't often at home and was more inclined to spend time with Charlie that with his parents or other siblings.

Considering the information that had been provided Fleur sat back in her chair. Poppy and Minerva had continued to discuss Luna and her recent visit to Hogwarts.

"Snorkales spit! Minerva I refuse to start using Snorkales spit as a treatment for burns! What are Snorkales anyway?"

Poppys' irate voice drifted in and out as Fleur scanned the room for any sign of curly brown hair. Tapping the arm of her chair distractedly Fleur tried to ignore the slightly nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sylvie was nowhere to be seen which wasn't helping matters. Etienne was also missing, hopefully he was watching over Hermione. It did nothing to calm her nerves, the only thing that could was decidedly missing from sight.

A draft with a hint of distinctive vanilla pulled Fleurs' attention to the doors of the hall. Inhaling deeply she fixed her gaze on the empty doors, if she was right she wouldn't have to wait too long. The knot that had taken residence in her stomach had dissipated almost instantaneously upon catching that fragrance on the slight breeze. Rubbing the rough arm of the chair she dared not turn from the open doors.

Finally Etienne appeared with Hermione at his side. Breathing a sigh of relief Fleur relaxed back knowing the Hermione would make her way to Minerva and Poppy. She seemed okay, laughing at whatever inane joke Etienne had just spun. She was breathtaking, hair pulled back and dressed casually but with a distinctive style. Her black gown gathered about her body suited her more so than the heavy dress robes many professors preferred.

"My that young man is really delightful!" chirped Poppy, noticing Hermione and Etiennes' arrival, "Perhaps our Hermione has attracted his attention?"

Fleur laughed silently at the possibility. Etienne wouldn't have any interest in Hermione. Would he? Looking once more at the two making their way towards them she grimaced. Engrossed in the pair Fleur didn't notice the astute examination she herself was under.


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors' Note: **Hi! It's me again :) This chapter took a little longer - deciding where to end it and begin the following chapter required a little more thought. In any case I hope you enjoy the latest offering.

_Jaely: _I think that the hint in this chapter should be sufficient for everyone to realise who the spy was :) Indeed Hermione is not a witch to be trifled with, be assured that Sylvie will not go unscathed.

_Tanner12: _Thank you for your lovely comments. I personally prefer when both of those men are removed early on - I'm more interested in the logistics of the relationship between Hermione and Fleur than in dealing with the emotional fallout regarding Ron and Bill! Glad you are enjoying the story, thanks for reviewing :)

_Ladyfun: _Good things come to those who wait . . . lol Glad that you are 'ape-shit jealous' over nothing, that's the best kind of jealous ;) You know when you're jealous over 'nothing' that there is _something _ there :P

_Khrat9: _Thank you for your kind offer! If I decide that French is needed I will definitely contact you. I think at this stage I will be just sticking to italicising 'french' so that those who speak English won't have to scroll for meaning. It does mean a slight loss in terms of authenticity but I myself hate scrolling for translation - though my french comprehension aint that bad :) Delighted that you enjoy the story! Perhaps you might have some opinions on how I'm portraying the French as a nation? let me know if I'm getting too stereotypical :)

_ , monkgirl, Incubus, wkgreen, guests: _Thank you all for your continued support!

* * *

Laughter bubbled up through her chest, slipping out despite her best efforts: never had she felt so light. It had been quite a while since she had been able to truly let go; without the pressure of work or future tasks weighing on her mind Hermione found herself relaxing and letting the worries that had occupied her mind up until this point drift away. Etienne was one of the most interesting characters she had ever met. While steering her round corridors and past various rooms his running commentary on everything from the school to French cuisine, English style and textbooks had entertained her no end. Not once had she been bored by his conversation. Instead she had been surprised at their quick return to the doors of the Great Hall after circumnavigating the whole school . . . apparently.

"There you 'ave it madmoiselle! The whole of Beauxbatons in under an 'our," blue eyes twinkled mischievously, "well almost all."

She laughed as he shrugged nonchalantly. Etiennes' laissez faire attitude suited him, it didn't offend and yet she couldn't help but admire and aspire to be as light-hearted. _Whatever brand of potion he's drinking I'll pay anything for a small vial._ Crossing her arms Hermione tried her level best to maintain a serious façade. It wasn't as easy as she thought: It was akin to trying to reprimand a particularly cute toddler whose actions, though inappropriate, are hilarious.

"You monsieur are a cad! The whole school?"

"All the important parts I assure you 'Ermione!" he replied, arms outstretched defiantly. It seemed her all-knowing glare had no effect whatsoever on Etienne who shrugged coyly before glancing over her shoulder. "Ah look there is Fleur, ask 'er if you don't believe me, and your fellow 'Ogwarts professors!"

Hermione didn't even think twice about following as he made his way towards the seated group of witches. Poppy waved enthusiastically beside Minerva who waved briefly before finishing whatever conversation she had been having with Fleur. Etienne greeted the witches with kisses on the cheek before reprimanding Fleur for slouching.

"Etienne I do not slouch. Delacours' do not slouch," she replied flatly.

Fleur was, as always, perfectly dressed. Her hair, shining in the natural light of the hall, was draped about her shoulders, loose and tangle-free. Alongside Minerva and Poppy she was every inch the professor but they couldn't match the ease with which she moved, making the most banal of actions graceful. Glaring pointedly at Etienne, Hermione noted, Fleur was a perfect match to his natural good looks . . . his charm however had yet to be bested.

The interaction between the two was quite entertaining to watch. Fleur completely disregarding everything that poured from Etiennes' mouth as he detailed their tour round Beauxbatons. Pointedly disregarding his tale Fleur took to scanning the crowd in the hall while sipping a cup of tea. Ignoring his fellow French professors' expression of exasperation at his dramatic account the young wizard continued to regale Minerva and Poppy, much to their amusement.

"Mercifully I was able to pry Professor 'Ermione from Professor Bovets' tour! For a second I thought she would not come with me!" Etiennes' feigned dismay was perfectly played, hands on hips and eyes wide with shock. "Mais I . . . 'ow do you English say? Turned on my charm yes?"

Turning to Hermione for confirmation Etienne wagged his eyebrows, daring her to refute his claim. She grinned in return; delighted at the effect the Frenchman was having on McGonagall and Pomfrey. Both womens' attention was fixed on the young man, Minerva the more sceptical of the two looked at Hermione out of the corner of her eyes as if to say _is he serious?_

"Minerva, Poppy I didn't stand a chance when Etienne turned on his charm," she stated, her face as deadpan as she could manage given the circumstances. That being two mature witches looking quite stumped at the drama involved in what would normally be quite a standard tale, as a certain Frenchman gazed expectantly, arm outstretched, at Hermione.

Her dull reply only seemed to egg Etienne on while Fleur, still making a point of studying the passing crowds, smirked at the answer given. Allowing Etienne to dominate discussion with Minerva and Poppy Hermione pulled a seat beside Fleur and collapsed into it gratefully. Despite her shoes being the most comfortable she had to offer . . . bar her slippers . . . Hermiones' feet were tired and aching. A soft chuckle alerted Hermione to Fleurs' amusement.

"Glad I am of some use," she grumbled good-naturedly, " I see you have tea. Not coming down to the Hogwarts Express then?"

Fleurs grin dropped from her face instantly, putting aside the now empty cup of tea she hurried to explain herself.

"Minerva was kind enough to offer and I didn't want to refuse! I apologise 'Ermione!"

Hermione laughed openly, it wasn't often she saw Fleur remotely flustered, before reassuring the witch she was joking. Fixing her gown Hermione chuckled, "Would you like to come down now? The students will be occupied for another hour or so and it is a beautiful day!" folding her arms she smirked at Fleur, "That is if you can stomach more English tea of course?"

Fleurs' hurried apologies dissipated the minute Hermione had begun to laugh. Chagrined at the English woman's obvious needling she eyed her suspiciously before replying, "Of course," laying a hand on Hermiones' arm gently, " only if it suits you 'Ermione?" _Time to see 'ow open you are to a little attention cherie._

Fleurs' sudden recovery and intent gaze put her possible host on the back foot. Laughing with Fleur or at Fleur was much easier to deal with, than staring into her eyes that were little more than a foot away! That was another matter altogether! Swallowing Hermione desperately fought for some semblance of calm before nodding, not trusting herself to speak just yet. Fleurs' smile was blinding: impossible to look at and yet impossible to ignore. Hermione registered the squeeze on her forearm distractedly as the Veela stood, shaking her head she noticed Fleur was waiting for her to rise and lead the way. Jumping out of her chair rather awkwardly Hermione drew the attention of the rest of their small group.

"Leaving Hermione?"

Minerva was smiling, a secretive smile that set Hermione on edge whenever she was on the receiving end of it. _How did Ron describe that sort of smile? Like there is something coming, something unpleasant?_

"Ah yes, I promised Fleur I would show her the Hogwarts Express yesterday," she explained hastily, "I suppose you are going to be down shortly?"

The hopeful lilt at the end of Hermiones' inquiry pulled a wry grin from her Headmistress. Minerva glanced at Fleur before shaking her head slightly.

"I'm afraid I agreed to a short tour of the grounds," gesturing at Etienne and Poppy she appeared rather pleased, "Etienne has been kind enough to offer his services."

"Well Minerva I'm sure this young man would rather accompany the two young ladies to the Hogwarts Express!" Poppys' interjection was cut off by the man in question himself.

"Non, non Madame! I must show you the greenhouses, they 'ave the most wonderful . . . mandrakes there!" pausing briefly he swept a hand carelessly in Fleur and Hermiones' direction, "These two do not need me! I would rather show you the grounds, they are most beautiful this time of year."

_Mandrakes? Wonderful? _It seemed Minerva was thinking along the same lines as Hermione: her face scrunched in confusion at the Frenchmans' choice of adjective. Poppy, however, was completely distracted.

"Oh hush!" Poppys' rosy cheeks stood out against her pale complexion, "You wouldn't want to show some old bat the way round!"

Hermione choked at Poppys' reference. The matron was acting nothing like an 'old bat', smiling coquettishly at Etienne. _'Old Bat' my backside, she has more fun than me on school breaks._

"Well I for one would love a tour!" exclaimed Minerva, managing to look quite affronted, "Old bat indeed!"

Realising her mistake Poppy rushed to explain her choice of phrase, glasses askew and hands fluttering here and there. A light pull on her elbow redirected Hermiones' attention. Fleur grinned at the scene before jerking her head towards the entrance of the hall. Smiling Hermione rolled her eyes before throwing one last glance back her fellow staff and following Fleur.

As she moved off Hermione didn't notice Etienne grinning slyly nor the twinkle in her Headmistress' eye as she continued to engage Poppy in a heated debate.

* * *

The tour of the train didn't take long at all, not that Hermione was anxious to extend the duration of Fleurs' stay aboard the magical engine. It wasn't that the French witch had been hard to please or difficult to engage, it had been quite the opposite. Fleur followed Hermione round the train obediently, asking insightful questions, appreciating the magical input and praising the mode of transport at every opportunity. Once or twice Hermione found herself having to think before answering. Fleurs' gaze distracting enough in normal circumstances, within the confines of the train its influence was magnified significantly. Embarrassed at her stuttered responses Hermione was determined to get a grip before she completely lost the run of herself.

Tea, make some tea Hermione. Sit down, ask her some relevant questions and mention Bill. Make tea, ask sensible questions. Make tea, ask sensible questions. . .

The mantra repeated steadily in her mind as she briskly led Fleur to the common cart. Pulling back the door she held it open for the visitor. Fleur's body passed by rather closely, her hand brushing against Hermiones' on the doorjamb. Hermione held her breath; her body, attuned to the light brush of Fleurs' clothing, felt every movement as she slid past. Licking her lips she rushed to pull out the required cups and teapot to complete the task that would free her.

Fleur sat at a window from where she observed bands of roving students moving in and out of the castle. Their merry laughter brought her back to her own schooldays. The carelessness of youth, shared joy and curiosity with good company were just a few of the memories that assaulted her. That had changed of course with her development; at least half of her school experiences were ones she treasured. The latter years of her education were not as pleasant; her physical maturity due to her Veela blood became increasingly apparent, as she had grown. Jealousy, lust and envy began to taint the life she hadn't treasured, as she should have. The appearance of a mug of tea with a plate of biscuits interrupted her melancholy musings. _The English and their biscuits. _Fleur smiled at the plate of ginger nut and shortbread offerings, a world away from French pastries and petits fours.

"You seemed lost there for a moment," Hermione noted, blowing gently on her own cup of tea.

Fleur nodded absentmindedly, distracted by the soft puffs of air disturbing the surface of Hermiones' tea. Running her tongue over her teeth Fleur played with the handle of her own cup, deciding how honest she should be.

"Oui, I was remembering my own time at Beauxbatons," she replied, her smile dimmed slightly at another laugh that echoed outside.

Hermione tilted her head, squinting at the part Veela who was lucky enough not to be sitting directly in the path of the bright sun. Clutching her cup in one hand she waved lazily, freeing the drape closest to her from its tether. Comfortable in the shade she sat back holding her cup securely on her crossed legs.

"Why do you seem to be less enthused by those memories than I would expect?"

Fleur sighed; Hermione was never going to let a comment like that slide without investigation. The witch in question was more distracted than the French woman could have known: Hermiones' focus was trained on the lip caught behind Fleurs' teeth.

"I suppose my 'eritage started to impact my school life sooner than anyone expected?" Shrugging vaguely, Fleur turned her gaze on the students outside the train. A whimsical smile made her seem years younger, her eyes vibrant in the sun. "I began to navigate those waters earlier than I thought I would 'ave to."

"You were always surrounded by girls though?" realising her question had revealed more than she had intended Hermione rushed to qualify her previous statement, "Well during your time at Hogwarts anyway! You Beauxbaton girls all travelled in quite large groups . . . yours being the biggest . . . I think . . ." Blushing at her inept manner Hermione gazed out the window, tapping a finger against her cup steadily, "I always presumed the Veela thrall affected males more so than females?"

Hermiones' confusion was endearing. Fleur smiled at her companion, _if you only knew ma belle._

"You are right. The Veela thrall when used to its full effect reduces men, most men, to nonsensical fools," her distaste was clear, nose crinkled at the memories that flooded her inner mind without permission, "mais even when a Veela curbs 'er thrall women can be affected also. Usually it is more toward the envious and jealous end of the spectrum."

"Usually?"

_Oh God! I really don't know when to shut up! Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Fleur grinned openly at Hermiones' expression. It was obvious that the English professor hadn't thought before she spoke aloud. Deciding it was too good an opportunity to miss Fleur examined her company's reaction for any clues.

"There were a few occasions where I was courted by my fellow students," Fleur, to Hermiones' dismay, did not just leave it at that. Eyebrow raised the Frenchwoman expanded upon her previous point, quite bluntly to Hermiones' mind, "In fact they were better than the boys I encountered over the summer."

_I do not want to know how they were better, I really don't. Please don't tell me. . ._

Somehow her internal monologue must have reached Fleur as she left the topic at that. Mercifully Hermione regained some of her famed composure.

"I apologise for the behaviour of the Hogwarts boys. I can't imagine how that was for you!"

Sipping her tea Fleur thought it was high time she found out if she had any competition. _No use going in half blind._ If she was going to be successful before the end of the tournament she needed to know what and perhaps whom she would face.

"Come now, cherie, no young man 'as caught your . . . fancy?"

Hermiones' reaction put any theories Fleur had about the possibility of a boyfriend to bed. Not that Bill hadn't been clear on the subject.

"Hah, as if I have time for a relationship! After Ron I moved from the Ministry to Hogwarts and haven't had the chance to even consider it!"

While delighted at the answer Fleur realised she would have to seem a little shocked. Personally she would have been quite happy to leave it at that, still appearances had to be maintained . . . for now.

"No! Not even on 'olidays? In the 'ighlands or by the sea?" Fleur questioned innocently.

"Been talking to my headmistress have we?"

Hermione looked knowingly in her companions' direction. _God knows what those two women have been blathering about!_

Disregarding the tone with which she was asked Fleur smiled secretively into her cup of tea, not offering any answer. Hermione rolled her eyes playfully, putting her cup down so that she could count off on one hand the number of dates she had enjoyed since Ron.

"Five?"

The part Veela's surprise rankled Hermione.

"Yes Fleur, some of us only go on a date once in a blue moon! Think about it! It's not like I have the cream of the crop at Hogwarts? Flitwick? Slughorn?"

It was as if the Frenchwoman was immune to Hermiones' displeasure: she thought nothing of continuing to question her after most would have backed off. Peering over the rim of her cup Fleur searched the recesses of her mind for the phrase she was looking for.

"Ah 'ow does the saying go? Where there is a will there is a way no?"

Hermione shrugged at Fleurs' valid point. It was true. If she had been more willing there were plenty of young wizards her age, and more not so suitable candidates, to choose from. After the war and her break-up it seemed like the entire wizarding world was waiting for her to settle down and bring the whole epic tale to a grand conclusion. _I'll be damned before I go out with people who are only interested in my connection to Harry!_

"You know what it's like? To know that the reams of letters you receive declaring undying love and devotion all are spawned from some kind of hero worship?"

Hermiones' frustration was evident in her tone. Fleur noted the stiff expression and folded arms of her companion. Imitating the younger womans' pose she decided to play with fire.

"Indeed I do mon amie, more than most."

Hermione realised how silly she was being. Of course Fleur would understand being appreciated for one thing and one thing only. Scratching at her head she apologised as best she could for her ignorance.

"Please 'ermione! I understand, but remember that you are not the only one who 'as 'ad to deal with this."

Surprisingly Hermione believed her. Fleur had been nothing but earnest since she had arrived. This old distrust she held regarding Fleur would have to be set aside. _The woman did risk her own life to complete tasks for the Order and look after me!_ Hermione groaned inwardly at the thought. It was simply unforgivable: her delay in thanking Fleur properly. _Well no time like the present I suppose._ Gathering her courage she pushed her cup aside, resting her folded hands in its place.

"Fleur I want to take this opportunity to thank you for everything you did for me at Shell Cottage," seeing the witch was going to interrupt Hermione held up her hand passively, "Please, let me finish?"

Fleur nodded, biting her tongue. It was hard to watch Hermione relive the memories of that dreadful time. When they had shown up at the cottage Fleur was almost overcome at the sight of the younger woman unconscious in her companions arms. Bill had seen it right away of course.

"After getting away from . . . Malfoy Manor," Hermione shuddered at the name, "I was in a bad way," forcing herself to look Fleur in the eyes she continued, "I know it was you who looked after me. I know what you saw. If you hadn't been there I don't know what we would have done. I don't know what I would have done or if I would be here."

Blinking back the tears that were stubbornly welling, Hermione turned and looked out the window snatching at whatever control she could muster. Blue skies and wild meadows calmed her somewhat, enough for her to be able to face Fleur once more. Tearing her eyes from the landscape she realised the French witch was gripping the table, tight enough to cause her knuckles to blanch at the strain. Whatever courage she had left was used to reach over and grasp Fleurs' hand.

"You saved me. I have never properly thanked you for that. Thank you."

Cursing her unsteady voice Hermione could only grip the hand in her own, chewing her lip allowed her some control over the tears that threatened to spill. Fleur squeezed Hermiones' hand with her own. Swallowing back her despair at what Hermione had been through, she forced herself to remain calm. Silently she turned the hand in hers over and peeled the covering jumper back to reveal the bare forearm beneath. Murmuring softly she pierced through the charms hiding what she knew to be there.

"You should not 'ide this," Fleurs finger traced the scarred word, "It is a . . . testament to what you survived."

Hermione watched, dumb as soft fingers traced Bellatrix's parting gift. Nobody had ever dared to remove the charms she placed there, not even Harry. Still this was the last thing she had expected. Wrenching her eyes from the white scar emblazoned on her arm she caught Fleurs' gaze.

"I hide it so that it doesn't distract my students."

Fleur accepted the excuse. Knowing that wasn't the case she refrained from arguing. N_ow is not the time, it is too soon_. Instead she reached for Hermiones' jumper, pulled it down once more and released the hand she had held captive.

Hermione sat back once more scrambling for something to say, perturbed at what she had just revealed. If she was honest with herself the nervousness she felt had more to do with the comfort she had taken from Fleurs' presence and support than the information she had shared.

The Frenchwomans' silence at her answer was significant; she knew Hermione was lying, how . . . Hermione wasn't sure. Thankfully her roving eyes caught sight of a vibrant red book cover that had been tossed carelessly by a student on a free chair. A random act that now provided the very inspiration Hermione needed.

"Bill!" at the mention of her former partner Fleurs' eyes widened, "He wanted me to pass on his congratulations? You told him about your new position and he was talking to me before we left for France. Wanted me to say hi?"

Hermiones' rambling would have been amusing if it wasn't quite so frantic. Aware that the previous topic of conversation was the root of that fraught change of subject Fleur decided to go with it and not make Hermione any more uncomfortable that she was.

"Ah Bill! Oui, I write to 'im sometimes. Is 'e well? 'Ow are the Weasleys?"

Grateful to have been given an out Hermione talked solidly about Bill, Ron, Ginny and the remaining Weasleys for at least ten minutes. Fleur sat back and listened to tales of domestic bliss in the Potter household, family plans of Ron and the latest recipes that Molly Weasley had been trying out on the entire clan. As she spoke Hermione appreciated the chance to find some balance. It all was second nature to her: detailing the lives of her friends as if they were characters in a novel. Her captive audience was more interested in the narrator than the tale but it made no difference to the pair. Now they were in safer territory, ground that was stable and unlikely to fall away from under them.

* * *

Before she knew it Hermione was saying goodbye to Fleur and returning to her rooms. They had missed dinner but, according to Fleur, that wouldn't be noticed. _Pah with these visitors there will be more people in the 'all than usual! There will be more missing than us I am sure! _Hermione snorted at the thought of anyone not detecting Fleurs' absence. The idea seemed rather ridiculous to her.

Clearing away the used plates into the kitchen Hermione idly wondered about the witch she had just seen off. Fleur was still Fleur: impossibly good looking, charming, intelligent . . . French. There was something different though, she wasn't . . . as haughty? Or maybe it was just because she was more used to Fleur and her manner that she found her warmer this time round?

She did have quite a lot in common with the woman compared to when they were at school. Both witches found magical law with regard to magical creatures fascinating. Hermione explained the aims of S.P.E.W. to Fleur while she detailed the troubled history of the fight for Veela rights. From there they had fallen into talking about their students and trying to instil a sense of fairness and equality, a task they both recognised as a mammoth one. _The minute I mention magical creatures I 'ave to be very careful. Many of my pupils are descended from the very creatures we are studying while the rest are either pureblood, muggleborn or in between._ Hermione had thought that being from a mixed heritage herself would have given Fleur the edge concerning the subject. _An advantage? They think I only care for my students that 'ave a mixed background like me! If anything I 'ave no arm to stand on._ Smiling Hermione recalled the subsequent discussion of English idioms: their frustrating variety and scope.

Scanning the empty cart for any more dishes Hermione decided on a whim to check the mini-library the staff had thought to fit to one side of the carriage. Supposedly it contained textbooks that might be useful for research during the tournament. Skimming the titles with a practised eye she plucked a slight book from the shelf. 'Curiosities of Mixed Magical Heritage: Magical Creatures, their Descendants and Magical Anomalies' was embossed on the spine, its cover well worn with use. Flicking through the pages Hermione wandered slowly back to her rooms. _Something to occupy myself until the rest return._

* * *

Fleur breathed the evening air in. Smiling she moved through the courtyard briskly, ignoring the stares of some of the visiting students who lingered. Her talk with Hermione had been everything and more than she could have wished for! _All that remains is to win 'er over._ Her lips twisted wryly at the thought, _as easy as that._ Glancing at the emptying hall she decided against checking in with Etienne, he would fill her in regarding Sylvie and her exploits soon enough. All she wanted to do was retire to her rooms and bask in the memories she had of her successful afternoon. Striding purposefully to her rooms Fleur's plans for Hermione began to take shape.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Amazing an update! I know :) Well I won't even give all the excuses but this is just a short summary. Moving house + new job + holiday = one hell of a delay! Sorry about that folks :) Hopefully I will get into my old routine as soon as possible. Again I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading!

* * *

The week following their arrival was a busy one. Hermione spent most of her free time juggling sorting out the students, their training and study schedules, with her own duties as a representative of Hogwarts. Thankfully the students were acclimating to their new surroundings quite well making it easier on Hermione as the days passed. Fleur had been a steady presence despite the haphazard timetable Hermione seemed to be following. However she managed it Hermione wasn't quite sure. Not that she wasn't grateful; in fact Fleurs' presence was fast becoming one of the few things she could rely on. The part-Veela had been there at the worst times in Hermione's life and seen her through. Where she had first been wary of Fleur, intimidated in the face of her perfection, those insecurities had fled during her short stay at Shell Cottage. Now it was akin to reacquainting herself with an old school friend who had been abroad for several years except for the fact that this time round she felt she was getting to know the woman better than she had ever known her before.

"Strange how we change," Hermione murmured, flicking through a large text on the uses of charms in defensive wards.

Sighing heavily she leaned back, staring at the ornate stone carvings of the Beauxbatons' library ceiling. _Its almost as grand as the one at home but then again perhaps that's just my opinion._ Hermione would never be surprised by her love of libraries. Books were constant: they always had that smell, felt familiar . . . were always bound by two covers. Libraries borrowed this consistency from their very content. While the library at Hogwarts would always be her favourite, those she encountered elsewhere provided the same comfort. Hence it was no surprise that when not engaged in directing students Hermione could be found among the tall stacks of books, head bowed over whatever texts might be of some use.

Realising that she had been in the library for the better part of five hours Hermione closed the charms book tiredly and stretched out her limbs. Rolling her shoulders she left the table and retraced her steps to the entrance, nodding at the librarian who merely glanced in her direction.

The halls were empty, it was well past the pupils' curfew, making Hermione's steps echo loudly in her own ears. Moonlight bathed the passages in a silver glow, illuminating the smooth stone carvings that seemed to decorate every corner of the French school. Hermione pulled her navy jacket on as she walked; however balmy the days in France were the nights brought a cool respite that chilled her to the bone. Once she hit the fresh air she was glad of the extra layer. Skipping down the steps she crossed the courtyard hurriedly, determined to reach the train as quickly as possible. The warm yellow pinpricks of light grew ever bigger as she neared the Hogwarts Express, warming her every step. _Minerva and Poppy must still be up._ Hermione was enjoying the chance to spend time with both witches outside school. Usually it was with one or the other, the opportunity to observe the older women interact was a rare one.

Occupied by her thoughts of warmth and tea Hermione had paid no notice to the carriages parked off to one side of the outer walls. Resting in the shade of the looming walls they were hardly discernible, even if someone were to study the walls intently. Instead she grasped the door to the common cart firmly and swung herself inside without any warning.

"It is cool outside tonight! God I could murder a cup of tea," she groaned, throwing her scarf and jacket on a hat stand inside the door, "The library had a decent book on charms . . ."

"Glad to see some things don't change Granger."

Hermione would have recognised that sneering tone anywhere. After six years of looking at him you would think his paleness couldn't shock her anymore but like most things concerning Draco Malfoy it did. Draped in a chair next to Minerva he looked every inch the pureblood aristocrat he was born to be; dark, heavy robes fell about his frame, accentuating his blonde hair and sharp eyes. Eyes that looked her up and down, assessing and, to Hermione's mind, finding everything as he would have expected.

"Professor Granger to you Malfoy," replied Hermione, determined that she would at least appear unfazed by his presence, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Deciding that standing in the doorway was far too supplicant a position to maintain Hermione strode past him to the kitchenette to make some tea.

"Making tea dear?" inquired McGonagall, who at Hermione's nod requested a cup for herself.

"Malfoy? Poppy? Can I interest you?"

Hermione almost laughed at Draco's expression at the thought of accepting tea, tea that she was brazenly making the muggle way. Smiling at his scowling face she concluded that this was far too much fun to not continue.

"No? Well then you don't mind if I . . ." she gestured with the cup she had grabbed from the cupboard.

"Well excuse me Hermione! Mr. Malfoy might not be interested but I would certainly love a cup!"

"Of course Poppy."

"Oooh be a dear and make some of that lovely Muggle herbal tea!" Poppy turned to Draco, whispering conspiratorially, "It's my favourite."

Grinning delightedly Hermione busied herself with the tea, ignoring the displeasure on Draco's face. Crossing his legs, Draco brushed his robes as if they were covered in invisible lint. _How does he manage to look so pompous all the time?_ Realising he was not the center of attention nor garnering the 'respect' he deserved Draco glared balefully as Hermione passed out the cups of tea before seating herself in a large wing backed chair opposite his own.

"Professor Granger it can hardly be a surprise to find me here? I am, after all, a Ministry official."

Hermione sipped at her tea before answering. _I'll be damned before I let the git get a rise out of me!_ Draco had finished his schooling the same year as Hermione, one of the few Slytherins who had returned to complete their education. She hadn't seen much of him that year or at the graduation despite his marks being second only to hers. Narcissa and he had been isolated figures at the event, leaving much earlier than the rest of the congregation. After that she had heard he had taken a position in the Ministry . . . something to do with sport or international co-operation or some such nonsense.

"I do remember something being mentioned. What department is it Draco?"

"Glad to see you remember my name Hermione," he sneered, "International Magical Co-Operation."

"Hmmmm," Hermione paused, a biscuit halfway to her mouth, "I thought you wanted to do something with Quidditch?"

Draco pursed his thin lips in irritation.

"Yes," he replied, barely opening his mouth, "The position was filled."

"By Blaise Zabini if I'm not mistaken?"

"You're not," Draco replied through gritted teeth, "Though we all can't get what we want can we? I hear Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures can be a torture. Horrendous mountain of red tape and all that before anything happens."

Hermione bit the inside of her lip, recognising the comment for what it was: a direct hit at her own ministerial career.

Minerva and Poppy watched the exchange in fascination. The two students who, for most their school careers, had been very upfront and open about their dislike of one another were playing a very mature game of cat and mouse. Hidden quips here, a backhanded compliment there. These two people were very different from the nose-breaking girl and hostile boy that had once sparked rows in the corridor every other day.

"Still I am not here to share stories of days spent in the Ministry," Draco continued, facing Minerva and Poppy for the first time since Hermione had arrived, "I was explaining to Headmistress McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey the reason for my visit before you barged in."

"Well pardon me for entering what essentially is my home for the next year without knocking!" spluttered Hermione, glaring at the coy smile that graced Draco's mouth.

"That's quite enough Mr. Malfoy," interrupted Minerva, "You may no longer be a pupil of mine but you will show the respect a member of Hogwarts staff is entitled to."

Minerva's stern expression was enough to stop Hermione in her tracks. Draco simply nodded before carrying on with his explanation.

"Apologies. As you know my department is responsible for any international events that concern Great Britain. As such a representative will be present at all events related to the Triwizard Tournament."

"Much like Bagman during the last competition I presume," added Poppy, sipping her herbal tea.

"Exactly, my role will be to represent the Ministry at the tournament. Since the Goblet of Fire is to be lit next week I decided that I would visit a few days early and make myself known to both the Hogwarts staff and the other competitors."

Hermione hated to admit it but from what she had heard of Draco's work he was considered a very good politician and one who was well able to represent himself and the Ministry at various events. _He did very well during the War memorials._ Hermione had been amazed at his appointment and subsequent presence at the various events held to commemorate the War. Despite the murmurs and whispers Draco had been at each and every one both at home and abroad. Dressed impeccably and on his best behaviour Draco Malfoy was a hard man to ignore.

"Mr. Malfoy had been inquiring as to the choice of students Hermione before you arrived. Perhaps you might fill him in since you are in charge of their preparation," Minerva's lips twitched, the last fifteen minutes of keeping Draco Malfoy entertained had left her with little patience to spare.

Hermione sat back in her chair, deciding where to begin.

"An equal number of students have been chosen from each of the houses based on the recommendations of the Hogwarts staff. As with the tournament during our fourth year there was an age limit thus our students are from the older year groups," Hermione hesitated, seeing no questions were forthcoming she continued. "The N.E.W.T. students did have to get particular permission seeing as it is an exam year and while we are here I shall be maintaining their studies with extra classes."

"What do you think are our chances?"

Hermione raised her brow at the question. Surely Draco didn't expect her to predict the outcome of the tournament? Looking briefly at Minerva and Poppy she was glad to see she wasn't the only one who was surprised.

"Well I can't really say," Hermione muttered, "I haven't seen much of the other schools candidates. They are quite secretive, especially Durmstrang and . . ."

"Don't worry about Durmstrang," Draco stated calmly.

"Don't worry?"

Looking at the witches Draco smiled slyly "Doesn't do any harm to have old contacts in other ministries."

Hermione was, momentarily, at a loss for words. Poppy was doing her best impression of a fish while Minerva had taken to cleaning her spectacles.

"Mr. Malfoy," Minerva began, replacing her glasses on the bridge of her nose, "I hope you are not inferring what I think you are inferring?"

Draco folded his arms across his chest, _Loving every minute of this I bet, _basking in the reaction he had garnered.

"Headmistress I am merely relaying what I happened to hear from old friends of mine," Draco replied, far too pleased with himself by half, "Simply put I was told that Durmstrang's pupils are rather weak this year. Not a one that should trouble us."

Hermione snorted audibly.

"That's what people said about Harry."

Poppy nodded fervently, "Mr. Potter was not expected to make a dent in the competition. Ms. Delacour was considered a much tougher prospect."

"Please! Potter had fake-Moody pulling for him!"

Hermione bristled at the slight against her friend.

"I was there for Harry and I can tell you what he had to go through to finish those tasks Malfoy!"

"Granger I'm not insulting Potter but you can't draw a comparison. Not only did he have a dark wizard working the odds in his favour he had you!"

Hermione wasn't sure whether that was meant to be a compliment or not. Draco realising his misstep jumped back in before Hermione could answer.

"Look just forget about what I have heard. What about our candidates?"

"What about them Mr. Malfoy?" queried McGonagall, staring at the former pupil as if daring him to disparage the quality of student Hogwarts produced.

Draco ignored the Headmistress in favour of looking at Hermione who was still reeling from his last comment.

"Well . . . not bad I suppose. There are a few that I would put money on . . . one or two Ravenclaws, three Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff and perhaps two Slytherins," stuttered Hermione, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Two Slytherins?"

Hermione glowered at Draco.

"Oh for goodness sake! Yes! One or two Slytherins," she huffed, annoyed that he still thought her completely biased.

Draco nodded to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"What is it to you what our students are like?"

Poppys' question seemed rather obvious to Hermione before she realised whom it was directed at. Draco had never really had much school spirit. In fact unless it was concerning Slytherin Draco had never been a huge cheerleader for school events. _The only time I saw him wearing a badge for Cedric was to annoy Harry!_

"As the representative for the Ministry I am interested in how our students are going to perform!" Draco replied as if it were a given.

None of the witches looked convinced but they didn't get a chance to question him further. Draco stood in one swift movement, fixed his robes and thanked them for their hospitality before sweeping from the compartment. As soon as he had appeared he had gone leaving three stunned witches in his wake.

"I don't like this one bit," chattered Poppy, shaking her head warily, "Not one bit."

* * *

By breakfast the next morning Hermione still hadn't unravelled the mystery that was Draco Malfoy. Whose presence at the staff table, a few seats from her own, was causing a stir. Chatting, in French, with some of the Beauxbatons' staff he looked every inch the gentleman. Chewing slowly Hermione decided she would have to get to the bottom of his reasons for the interrogation she had suffered last night.

Sipping her strong coffee Hermione caught Fleurs' gaze. The Frenchwoman's head was tilted questioningly. Shaking her head Hermione mouthed 'Later' before smiling at Fleur in what she hoped was a comforting manner. Lifting her head Fleur acknowledged Hermione's response and turned to Etienne who had nudged his companion. Fleurs' ability to read Hermione was slightly disconcerting for the witch in question, still it was nice to know she had a friend.

Pushing her plate and cutlery away from her picking fingers Hermione cleaned her hands on a napkin before rising to get to class. Monday mornings were devoted to N.E.W.T. student revision classes, the only slot Hermione could work out to suit all the pupils. Saying goodbye to Poppy and Minerva Hermione left the hall quickly, mentally running through the topics she would cover this morning. Turning the last corner from her destination Hermione spotted Sylvie waiting at the door to the room.

Hermione hadn't had much contact with the French professor since their visit to this very room but the woman always seemed to bump into Hermione between classes or in the library. Never when Fleur was in her company though, Hermione had noted and decided to ask Fleur about that later.

"Bon matin 'Ermione!" greeted Sylvie, her dark locks curled to perfection off of her shoulders.

Hermione smiled warmly at her French counterpart, replying in a similar vein.

"'Ermione I wanted to ask if you 'ad a chance to visit our gardens? They 'ave some very useful plants that might be worth studying for the tournament."

"Sylvie I hadn't thought to take the students! That's a brilliant idea!"

"I would love to show you them. They are a 'ome from 'ome being a potions professor!"

Chuckling at the joke Hermione nodded and arranged to meet with the witch in an hours time. The two discussed their respective classes until Sylvie had to leave to get to her first morning class.

"Why am I always rushing 'Ermione?" grinned the witch, "What 'ave you done to me?"

"Excuses Professor Bovet! Excuses!" replied Hermione, wagging her finger mockingly.

Rather than laugh and rush off the French witchs' response caught Hermione by surprise. Finding her finger grasped in a soft hand she was dumb at the sarcastic reply she received.

"If only I could figure it out hmm?" whispered Sylvie, before laughing and releasing Hermione's hand.

Hermione didn't move until Sylvie had disappeared from view. Catching herself staring after the Frenchwoman Hermione looked round. _Why am I soo muzzy headed? These dizzy attacks are not going away at all!_ Shaking her head to clear it as much as possible Hermione moved into the classroom that was bursting with tired students.

* * *

"_I don't like it Etienne,"_ Fleur's opinion was not a new one.

Ever since he had informed her of Sylvie's behaviour after the staff meeting Fleur had watched the potions professor like a veritable hawk.

"_I know, I know," _he replied, flipping through the first year essays piled on his lap, "S_he is up to no good, she is messing with Hermione. . . yada yada yah . . . so what are you going to do about it?"_

Etienne watched Fleur chew her lip considering his point. What could she do? Sylvie hadn't hurt Hermione. She hadn't enthralled her. She hadn't even touched her. Until Sylvie did something Fleur had nothing but her hunches and that was no good when trying to convince a logical witch like Hermione Granger. Fleur sighed heavily before making her problem clear.

"'_Ermione will never believe me unless I can prove it. Sylvie 'asn't been meeting with 'ermione while I am with 'er but I know that she 'as been catching 'er between classes!" _groaning loudly Fleur dragged her fingers through her hair. _"That one 'as been working on 'ermione. I can smell it on 'er. Every time I meet with 'ermione there is a stronger smell!"_

Etienne put aside the essays, realising he wasn't going to get anything done with Fleur in such a state. His friend had been driving him crazy for a week with her paranoia regarding the visiting professor. It was getting ridiculous . . . and a little irritating.

"_I still don't see why you don't just tell 'er?"_ Etienne shrugged at Fleurs' dismissive gesture, _"Then at least 'ermione will know and you can start to 'elp me!"_

" '_Elp you with what?"_

"_Finding out 'ow to get that Malfoy man alone!"_

Fleur hung her head in despair. This was just what she didn't need. Etienne mooning over Draco Malfoy!

"Etienne forget it! 'e is a pompous ass and that is coming from me, the most pompous ass you 'ave ever met apparently!"

"_Forget? Not a chance," _Etienne grinned slyly, _"I 'aven't even 'ad a fair shot."_

Fleur recognised that look. Whatever she said it wasn't going to deter him. Leaning over she flicked his ear sharply making him yelp in surprise.

"_What was that for?"_

"_Come back to reality and 'elp me with my problem!" _

Etienne groaned at his friends' persistence.

"_Fine!"_ he replied throwing his arms up, _"It's simple Fleur! You 'ave to catch 'er at it!"_

"_I 'ave been trying that Etienne!" _growled Fleur, exasperated at the repetitive advice.

"_Then try 'arder! I 'eard Sylvie offering to show 'ermione round the gardens at eleven. Go there and 'ide in the bushes or something!"_

The Frenchman made a show of hiding behind his hands and peering over his palms with wide eyes.

"_Etienne!" _shouted Fleur, _"That's in ten minutes. Why didn't you tell me?"_

"_Please," _replied Etienne, sprawling in his chair as if talking to the ceiling, "_all you ever do is talk about 'ermione. I 'ave been on 'ermione watch since that meeting last week! I'm tired and can't concentrate! I swear I know more about that witch than you!"_

After five minutes of no reply Etienne decided he had better check on his friend. Finding himself alone he nodded at the vacant chair opposite him.

"_Perfect Fleur, thank you very much! Typical Veela . . ."_

Muttering various obscenities he gathered his things together and decided to see if Mr. Malfoy was free for a personal guided tour of Beauxbatons.

* * *

Hermione couldn't figure out whether she had taken a wrong turn or if she was just missing the door she had to take to access the potions garden. Studying both ends of the hall Hermione decided that while Etienne was an entertaining guide she had been far too amused for her own good. Striding round a bend she finally spotted Sylvie waiting outside the door she had been looking forward.

"Sylvie!" Hermione started speaking as soon as she saw the French witch, "I am soo sorry!"

Thankfully Sylvie didn't seem to mind too much, smiling she laughed at the harried witch. Dressed in long robes that clung to her frame under a darker blue cloak Sylvie was stunning.

"'Ermione please, do not worry. I 'ave only been 'ere five minutes!"

"Don't lie! It has to be at least ten! It won't happen again."

Sylvie turned to the door they were both interested in and produced a intricate, iron-wrought key from her robes. The key looked heavy, its ornate handle looped through a hoop that held several similar keys. Noting Hermione's interest Sylvie held the key up for her inspection once the door was unlocked.

"Some areas of Beauxbatons are kept secure because of the danger they pose students. Many of the plants 'ere are only for the use of professors or the nurse," Sylvie explained.

"It is a marvellous key," Hermione praised, before pulling a handful of plastic zip lock bags from her pocket. "I hope you don't mind if I take a few samples for the students to study?"

"Not at all!" Sylvie exclaimed, peering curiously at the zip lock bags, "As long as you are present and keep the samples in a safe location?"

"Of course!"

"Well then, pas du tout mon amie!"

Sylvie held the door open for Hermione to pass through before following herself. The potions garden was a small, enclosed area that held raised beds with distinct rows of plants. Each row was clearly labelled, though all were in French Hermione recognised a few of the plants by sight and others by their Latin names. Scanning the first plot she noted Milkweed and Snarksfoil amongst the closest rows. Keeping her hands to herself she moved between the beds carefully: while not a potions professor Hermione was proficient enough to recognise the dangers inherent in some of the plants on offer.

"You might wish to take some Elanor?" pointed Sylvie, directing Hermione to a bed close to the far wall. "It is a useful 'erb used in many anti-venoms."

"I haven't seen that before!" Hermione enthused, using small clippers to clip a few sprigs of the plant.

Sylvie moved round the bed smiling at the engrossed witch. If she could distract the woman for long enough Hermione wouldn't notice the layered thrall she had begun to build since their meeting in the classroom. It had been a measured process so as not to raise any suspicions. Too quickly and Hermione would have been a robotic, mechanical human obsessed with Sylvie's every thought, word and move. '_Time consuming but worth the wait,' Sylvie_ thought to herself. Turning as silently as possible she watched her companion move from bed to bed.

"Sylvie have you anything here that might be effective in revealing enchantments?" Hermione questioned, eyes raking the plants for useful specimens.

Making sure to keep her tone and voice level Sylvie steadily increased her aura until it was encompassing a small area round herself.

"There are a few that might be of service," standing still Sylvie gestured to a purple-headed plant a metre or so from where she stood, "Entwhistle is a cousin of heather and foxgloves. It has been known to make visible charms that are placed on objects."

Hermione drifted toward the plant, admiring its purple colour. Sylvie watched as Hermione stopped at the boundary of her thrall. Slowly she edged toward the distracted witch, speaking in the same tone as before.

"While not particularly useful for brewing Entwhistle is one of the few plants that can be found in gramaries as far back as the fourteenth century. It's a favourite of mine."

As she spoke Sylvie's eyes tracked her thrall as it broached Hermione's personal space, until it clung to the other witch's feet. Hermione slowly reached to brush a purple sprig of the plant with her forefinger, entranced by its delicacy. Before it could reach its destination a pale hand held it back.

"Non, 'ermione you mustn't touch the 'ead of the plant without covering your 'ands."

Sylvie knew she was lying through her teeth, still she couldn't allow the foreign witch to touch the plant while her thrall was active on her person. Entwhistle would sharpen her focus and possibly snap her from any of Sylvie's enchantments. Hoping that Hermione was far enough gone to disregard the nonsense she just uttered Sylvie took the hand she had stopped from touching the plant.

"We should use the clippers," she continued pulling Hermione upright as she did so.

"Right. We should use the clippers," parroted Hermione, looking from her own hand in Sylvie's to the luminous green orbs that were trained on her face.

Again she felt a rush of dizziness that left her breathless. Gripping Sylvie's hand Hermione struggled to stand upright on her own two feet. She registered the noise of the clippers and bags hitting the gravel beneath her feet distantly. All she could concentrate on was Sylvie . . . and her eyes . . . that were coming closer.

A door closing jolted Hermione from her daze. Clarity doused Hermione with an awareness of everything from the wind on her face to the sound of birds chirping beyond the walls of the potions garden. Turning her face aside she didn't even reach for her wand before Sylvie was thrown back across the garden, hitting a barrel before landing flat on the gravel.

"You!" shouted Hermione, whipping her wand in front of her. "I thought I was sick! I thought I was coming down with the flu! But it was you all this time!"

Every sentence was punctuated with a stride as Hermione advanced on the shocked siren. Scrambling Sylvie tried to back away as gracefully as possible without looking guilty. The stormy hazel eyes that were trained on her own didn't give her much hope.

"'ermione what do you mean? We were talking and . . ." Sylvie spluttered, reaching for her own wand.

"Talking!" Sylvie heard no words before her ash wand flew from its pocket to Hermione's hand, "You were using a thrall! Did you honestly think that I would be trapped like that?"

The shocked Frenchwoman could only hold her hands up as peacefully as possible, eyes darting round the enclosed garden for some escape. Her options were swiftly removed as she was thrown against a wooden trellis that spanned the granite wall behind her. Eyes wide Sylvie could only look on helplessly as Hermione glared stonily in her direction. Hermione's gaze never wavered as she moved forward and pressed her wand firmly against her captives' sternum. Swallowing nervously Sylvie watched as Hermione, nostrils flared and jaw clenched, tightened her grip on her wand.

"Don't even speak!" Hermione cut off Sylvie before she could open her mouth; "I worked with various magical creatures during my time at the Ministry. Sirens were among those who asked for my help. I cannot believe you would use a trait that they are fighting so hard to be recognised as non-threatening in such a manner!"

Hermione could hardly contain her anger. The minute she had realised what was happening she had lost her temper. Sylvie's face was wincing in pain; gravel had grazed her hands and elbows as she had skidded back from the force of Hermione's wandless spell leaving streaks of blood in its wake. Unfazed Hermione breathed heavily through her nose, struggling to maintain control over her emotions. With a whispered word Sylvie was roughly dragged down until she was eye level with the irate witch.

"Let me make myself clear," Hermione emphasised each word with a jab from her wand. "I do not want to speak with you. See you. Hear you. You will stay far away from my students. You will stay far away from anyone associated with myself. If I hear a whisper of any trouble from you I will report you to the French Ministry of Magic and to Madame Maxime."

Sylvie jerked her head in acquiescence, her once perfect hair now more like a nest.

"The only reason I am not reporting you immediately is because I hope, against all hope that this is an isolated incident. Mark my words I will be checking with Fleur and Etienne. If either of them has had similar or observed similar behaviour I will not hesitated to report you."

"'Ermione I . . ."

"Get out of my sight," Hermione spit from behind gritted teeth, interrupting the stunned witch.

Stepping aside Hermione let the Frenchwoman fall clumsily from the hold she had been in. Glaring at the dishevelled professor Hermione held her ground while Sylvie scampered past. The part-Siren plucked her discarded wand as she ran from the garden, pulling her robes into some semblance of order as she pulled the door behind her.

Hermione holstered her wand slowly. Breathing through her nose and out through her mouth she counted to ten. Gradually her shoulders lost the tension that had held her rigid, her jaw loosened itself and fists unfurled to reveal the imprint her nails had left behind on her palm. Staring at her palm Hermione didn't notice anything until clapping erupted from behind her. Spinning on her heel she pulled her wand out to find herself face to face with a grinning Fleur.

"Bravo! Bravo! 'Ermione that was amazing! Formidable!"

The French witch ignored the shaking wand in her face in favour of sharing her enthusiasm at the display of magic she had just witnessed. If she had had any doubts regarding Hermione's abilities they had been immediately dismissed. The effortless way in which Hermione had handled Sylvie left Fleur breathless and . . . a little hot under the collar.

"How long have you been here?" sputtered Hermione, dropping her wand to her side.

"Ah mon amie! I arrived to see Sylvie thrown five metres across the garden!" cried Fleur in delight, flinging her arm out demonstratively.

Ignoring the obvious shock that Hermione was in Fleur pulled the witch in for a quick hug.

"That was amazing! I didn't even see you move! 'ow did you manage to pull her down like that?… "

Fleur's ream of questions went unanswered as she followed a determined Hermione from the enclosed garden. The stiffness of Hermione's back and gait went unnoticed as the part Veela continued her monologue of praise that was only interrupted when the Frenchwoman was startled by the sudden appearance of angry hazel eyes.

"Fleur!"

"Quoi? . . . I mean what?"

"I know what quoi means! Fleur you were here and you did nothing!" Hermione spit furiously.

Suddenly Fleur noticed Hermione's stance. She was shaking, not very noticeably but shaking nonetheless. The encounter with Sylvie had unnerved her more than Fleur had thought. While she had watched Hermione had seemed the epitome of calm danger, now Fleur could see the upset Sylvie had caused.

"'ermione I arrived and you 'ad thrown Sylvie through the air! I didn't think I should interrupt. Sylvie was only getting what she deserved," mumbled Fleur contritely.

"What she deserved?"

Immediately Fleur knew she had misspoken. Hermione's eyes lit up with understanding before staring at the increasingly uneasy part-Veela.

"You knew!"

"'Ermione I …"

"You knew what Sylvie was doing didn't you!"

Fleur didn't get a chance to respond before Hermione had started to speak again.

"I cannot believe this! Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me go anywhere with that woman?" Hermione fired off question after question before she deflated completely. "Is that why you have been around so often? Keeping an eye on me?"

Fleur could not keep up with the questions that were being thrown at her from every direction. Just as her mouth opened to answer another was tossed in her face, all the while Hermione was growing more and more distressed.

"Non, non . . . well oui, but I was making sure you were safe! I couldn't accuse Sylvie of anything without proof! I 'ad no proof!"

Hermione gazed sadly at the flustered French professor. So Fleur had been following her round because of Sylvie. _Why else? Of course why else?_ Licking her lips Hermione ignored the stream of words that was pouring from Fleur's mouth. She couldn't move past that fact and as much as she wished she could hold on to it her anger was slowly seeping away to be replaced by sadness and hurt. Realising her control over her emotions was slowly fading Hermione decided she needed to get away and sort through what had just happened. Holding up her hand she stopped the French woman in her tracks.

"Fleur I have just had to deal with almost being enthralled. I can't listen to this right now. I'm going to the Hogwarts Express," Hermione muttered, turning from the stunned witch. "I'll see you around . . . maybe. "

The soft 'maybe' drifted by Fleur as she stood in the doorway to the place of Sylvie's humiliation and her own failure. Staring at the thick, heavy wooden door she wondered where exactly it had all gone spectacularly wrong.


End file.
